Ella Sinclair swiftly escorted Cora and me back to our suite, Rafe securely nestled in Cora's arms. Upon arrival, Sinclair kissed my head, then glanced down the hall.

"I'm going to catch up with Roger," he murmured. "We'll send Dad to you as soon as we find him."

Worried, I grabbed his hand. "Why don't you all just come here?"

Sinclair shook his head, looking down at me. "We need to keep an eye on Xander and speak with the staff to see if anyone knows where he went. I promise—we'll both come to you as soon as we have more information. All right?"

I bit my lip, nodding. I disliked the plan but trusted him. With a reassuring nod, Sinclair left.

"Come on, bride," I said, opening the door to my room and allowing Cora to enter with the baby and her long train. "Let's get you into something more comfortable."

"Oh, thank goodness," Cora sighed. "This dress is fantastic, but it's heavy."

"Oh, you poor thing, in fifty pounds of silk and satin," I murmured sarcastically, kicking off my heels and leading everyone into the closet. First, I took the baby from my sister and placed him in the wheeled bassinet. I'd transfer him to his crib later, but he seemed content to nap there.

"He's such an easy baby," Cora said with a sigh as I unbuttoned her dress. "How did you get so lucky?"

"He's just an angel," I said, my voice overly doting, making us laugh. "But seriously, I think wolf babies are just different. A lot less crying, a lot more understanding between parents and child, even at that age. It's incredibly convenient."

"I hope that's true," Cora said, absently touching her stomach. "I don't have as much patience as you, so if this kid isn't as easy as Rafe"

"You'll be great," I said, grinning as I finished unbuttoning her dress and she started to slip it off. I lifted the soft white sweatsuit I'd made for her. Cora gasped.

"Ella!" she exclaimed, hands on her hips. "You didn't!"

"It says 'Mrs. Sinclair' on the back," I said, grinning and handing it to her.

"It's too much," she said, waving her hand. "Honestly, Ella, you keep it—you're Mrs. Sinclair, too! And you've given us too much already."

"Oh, stop," I said, rolling my eyes and grinning, pressing the sweatsuit into her hands. "If you don't think I had my own made, you're crazy."

She laughed, putting on the outfit. "Well, it's very soft."

"I know," I said, unzipping my own dress. "Plus, we get to have the same name now, officially. Isn't that cool?"

"Oh," she said, pausing, realizing. "Oh wow, for the first time in our lives," she laughed. "Sisters in name, in addition to genetics and friendship."

I grinned, glad she shared my enthusiasm. After we both changed, I put Rafe into pajamas—he fussed a little, wanting to be left alone—and apologized before tucking him in and wheeling the bassinet into the bedroom.

"What do you think Xander's planning?" I asked, sitting beside my sister on the new loveseat we'd added to the room.

"I don't know," Cora said thoughtfully, curling up on the couch and facing me. "Nothing good, obviously, but" She paused. "Well, if you were Xander, what would you do?"

"Go for Rafe?" I suggested, glancing at my sleeping baby.

"Nah," she said, shaking her head. "Yesterday, Sinclair definitively marked Rafe as his heir. That eliminates that option for Xander."

"What do you mean?" I asked, frowning.

"Even if he were totake out Sinclair," she said slowly, and my eyes widened at the hypothetical. "Either way," Cora continued, "Rafe is Sinclair's heir. There's no way for Xander to claim Rafe as his own. Rafe is thoroughly a Sinclair, just like us. If Rafe inherits, his obvious guardians would be you, Henry, and Roger."

"And you," I said, nudging her knee.

She waved me off, but I nudged her again.

"So," I said softly, "you think he's doing something else?"

"I do," she said softly, her eyes unfocused as she considered. "I think the Sinclairs have successfully countered every move Xander has made. We've got him on the run, and he's embarrassed himself publicly."

I nodded, understanding that Xander was cornered. He had few resources left, and if he realized—as we had—that the Atalaxians were using him as a pawn to spark a warhis time and power were running short. He was scrambling.

"So, what would he do?" I wondered aloud.

"I think he'd grasp at whatever straws are left," Cora said softly. "He'd grab at whatever he thought was rightfully his, whatever he can hoard to make himself stronger."

"But he's lost his home and his rights—we'd have him arrested if the Atalaxians weren't claiming him," I pointed out.

"So, what does he have left?" Cora sighed, looking at the ceiling.

I thought hard, considering Xander's losses. He'd been a Duke, brother to a powerful King, and he'd lost it all. He'd tried to regain it by getting me pregnant and stealing the child, using Rafe to retake the throne, but we'd thwarted that. He'd lost his connection to the Dark Lord's priests, his home, and his servants. But suddenly, I went pale.

"Cora" I breathed, my eyes widening.

"What?" she said, her breath quickening.

"Jessica and Sarah," I said, panicking. We hadn't seen them since I'd told them Xander was here. Sarah had politely informed me they wouldn't attend the events to avoid him. But I—an idiot—had boasted to Xander about knowing them, and helping them. It wouldn't take much for him to discover two young refugee women were staying at the palace.

"We have to tell Roger and Sinclair," Cora said, jumping up to get her phone. But before she reached it, a scream pierced the air outside.

My head snapped to the window. It was high-pitched, shrill—the kind of sound an eight-year-old girl would make.