"Oh, Rafey," I murmured, reaching for my baby boy as Cora and Roger entered the room. "I'm so sorry, Mommy and Daddy just needed a minute."

"Yeah," Roger said, his smirk deepening. "To talk." I shrugged and returned his smirk, refusing to let him embarrass me. I carried my baby to his changing table and gathered his feeding supplies.

"What happened out there?" Cora asked, slightly breathless as she closed the door and looked around, wide-eyed. "I mean—is that okay? For them to bring a criminal and an enemy back into the nation?"

"It's not precisely legal," Sinclair sighed, gesturing towards the living room once I'd gathered my supplies. "But it's complicated, a very targeted message. They're showing their support for Xander's side—his policies and lineage, not mine."

Together, we went into the living room. I settled onto the couch and began to feed the baby, hoping for the comfort of the familiar routine.

"Are you two all right?" Roger asked, looking between me and Sinclair, who sat on the arm of the couch behind me.

"We're fine," my mate growled. Roger smirked slightly but nodded as he sat in an armchair opposite us. Cora looked confused but shrugged, giving up on trying to understand and sitting on Roger's lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close.

"All right," Roger said. "Then what's our plan to retaliate?"

"Unfortunately," Sinclair sighed, "they've played their cards well, bringing Xander here on a diplomatic mission. I have to be perfectly diplomatic this entire weekend, or I risk not being crowned."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. "It's that precarious?"

"These are a king's duties," he said, shrugging. "If, at the first test of diplomacy—no matter how significant—I rip someone's throat out, it would give my opponents a strong argument against my leadership."

I sighed, shaking my head and looking down at Rafe. "So, we have to tolerate him."

"I'll send a message to the Atalaxians that Xander isn't welcome at informal events," Sinclair murmured. "But when they gather formally, there's nothing I can do to prevent him without risking war—unless he crosses a line."

"Well," Roger said, tilting his head. "Can we provoke him into doing that?"

"Do we want to?" I asked, grimacing. "I mean, I don't know him, but this is a man devious enough to plan to get me pregnant and steal the child. I don't think we'll trick him into a faux pas we can use to expel him from the palace."

"Ella's right," Sinclair murmured behind me. I looked up to see him shaking his head and crossing his arms over his broad chest. Something stirred in me as I looked at him, and Sinclair glanced at me, a smile beginning to form as he sensed my arousal. I shrugged. I couldn't help it. He chuckled.

"What's with you two?" Cora murmured, still confused.

Roger laughed and pulled her closer. "Don't worry about it, Cora," he murmured, kissing her neck. "I'll explain later." She sighed, still confused, but conceded.

"It's unlikely the Atalaxians will truly provoke war—this was just their gambit, to show us where they stand. If we can get through the weekend without killing him, they should leave and give us more time to develop a better strategy for getting Xander back and ensuring justice."

"Do you think they'll let him go?" I asked.

"I don't think Xander means anything special to the Atalaxians," my mate replied, looking at me seriously. "I'm securely in power, and everyone knows Rafe is my son and heir. If he tries to claim the throne through Rafe…" Sinclair shrugged, implying it wouldn't go well internationally.

I smiled at Sinclair, glad my clear-thinking mate had returned. I felt much clearer after our interlude.

"So, he's a bargaining chip," Roger said, nodding. "They know we want him. Now they want to see what they can get."

"Well," Cora said, sitting up straighter, her strategic mind at work. I smiled; Cora had the best mind for these games, except perhaps Henry, whom I suddenly wished was here. She could have been a champion poker player had she not chosen medicine.

"I think," Cora continued, "our best move is to demonstrate that their bargaining chip is of little value to us."

"And perhaps," Roger added, nodding, "keep an eye on him to see if he makes a misstep."

"And if he does," Sinclair growled, a vengeful sound that made me smile, "we take him."

I took a deep breath, smiling at my family and baby. "It's a good plan," I murmured. "Now, we just have to put it into action."

Our family meeting was unfortunately short-lived. We spent a few more minutes detailing the plan, then knocks came at the door—hairdressers, housekeepers, stylists, and party planners. Everyone we'd asked to help us prepare for the evening—the formal greeting was just the beginning. We had dinner and the after-party to contend with.

We all changed—Cora and I into formal gowns, Roger, Sinclair, and Rafe into tuxedos. I squealed with delight dressing Rafe in his, even though he slept through most of it. He looked so cute I couldn't stop staring.

Cora laughed, coming to my side and looking down at my sleeping baby. "Is it alright to take him?" she murmured. "Does he need more sleep?"

"He's getting used to being a busy royal baby who naps on the go," I sighed, lifting him into my arms. "Besides, Conner's coming to be Rafe's bodyguard again. Rafe's used to sleeping in his arms after all those weeks at the camps."

"True," Cora said, laughing. "I bet Conner never thought he'd have the title 'Royal Bodyguard/Traveling Crib.'"

I laughed, pleased the mood had changed since we left the hall. I felt bolstered, ready for whatever came next. Sinclair came to my side, and I saw he was steady, too.

"Ready for dinner?" my mate asked, running a hand down the back of my sparkling silver gown.

"Ready for war, you mean?" I grinned.

Sinclair laughed, dipping his head to kiss me. "Come on, private," he growled, giving me a light smack on the behind. "Time to move out."