She pinched her eyebrows together, breathing hard. “Why?”

“Because a weapon of death shouldn’t be in the hand of someone who hasn’t lived.”

You can’t speak for a world when you only understand one point of view.

I stopped and stared at her, an idea forming. “I want you to teach Mads and Jett how to dance.”

She cocked her head.

Why hadn’t I thought of it years ago? I assumed getting a good education and learning to defend themselves would make them strong, but I still had time to encourage what made them happy. Mads would hate dancing, but someday, he might value the knowledge.

After a moment, she nodded. “Okay.”

Just then, Damon cut in, taking his wife’s hand and waist in his own. “Excuse me.”

I backed off, letting him in, and was about to go grab my own wife when I saw her heading toward me already.

“Guests are arriving,” she said. “Let’s go light the chandelier.”

Oh, that’s right.

“Jett,” I called, waving my daughter toward me. “Indie? Finn?”

Guests began drifting in, Rika and Michael standing near the door to greet people as coat checkers took the ladies’ wraps and gloves. Emory, dressed in green and her hair pulled into a low ponytail and curls falling down her back, circled the chandelier, handing out markers and basil leaves to all the kids.

Spreading out on the foyer floor, guests moved around them to watch as the kids wrote their wishes for the new year ahead on the leaves in silver marker and then stood up, lighting them on fire with a candle from the chandelier.

“Why do we burn it?” Gunnar asked as Dag dropped his ashen leaf into the copper bowl Emmy held.

“It releases the wish into the universe,” Indie explained.

“Well, I wished for fame last year,” her sister retorted, “and it didn’t come true. I think we’re doing this wrong.”

I smiled, watching all the kids, one by one, rise up and toss their burning leaves into the dish.

“It hasn’t come true yet,” Winter chimed in.

Will started the ritual about eight years ago. A new tradition. A way to keep ceremony in our lives and something fun for the kids to remember and maybe pass on to their own children someday.

My gaze stopped at Mads, seeing him hold his leaf to the flame, but instead of lighting it, he pulled it back. Tucking it inside his suit jacket, he turned to help Octavia, steadying her hand as she touched the leaf to the flame.

A figure appeared on the stairs, and I looked up, seeing Athos descend in an extremely form-fitting silver gown with a low-cut V neckline that I’d have a hard time seeing my daughter wear when she was seventeen.

Her face glittered with gray and white makeup around her eyes, and her hair hung down her back with a pair of small antlers secured on her head, making her look like something from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Alex had taught her how to do her makeup when she was ten, but unfortunately, Alex wasn’t here to suffer Michael’s wrath tonight. She and Aydin were spending the holidays with his family in New York, and we were also missing Micah and Rory, who were in Fiji.

Misha and Ryen were invited, but I doubted they’d show.

Michael walked over, turning to keep his eyes on her as she passed. “You’re wearing that to the lock-in?”

“To the ball.”

“We’ve had this conversation,” he argued as she kept walking. “Twenty-one and over, Athos.”

“Luckily, my daddy owns the place,” she threw back.

I snorted, watching her disappear into the ballroom.

Michael rubbed his face with his hand. “I don’t even know why I try.” He sighed and turned around. “I need to pick less fights, because the more I lose, the more emboldened she gets.”

“You can say no, you know?”

But he just shot me a look like I was crazy. “I didn’t raise that kid to take no for an answer.”

Oh, right.

He smiled over at me, mischief behind his gaze. “So, did you give it to her yet?”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Not yet,” I muttered, not wanting Banks to hear. “Can I count on you for a calm night tonight, so I can enjoy my wife?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Because every holiday, shit hits the fan over something,” I barked.

He thinned his eyes. “Thanksgiving was not my fault.”

“The Fourth of July was your fault.”

He folded his arms over his chest as the kids finished lighting the candles. “And who gave Thunder Bay’s basketball team your uncle’s trucks last March so they could dump manure all over Falcon’s Well after losing the state championships?”

“Not me,” I shot back, digging out invisible dirt from underneath my fingernail. “I simply left the keys out. I didn’t give them to anybody.”

He scoffed, the guests filling the room around us.

“Besides, we didn’t lose,” I told him. “They fouled. The ref just didn’t see it.”

“Well, the next time you ‘leave the keys out’,” he said, getting in my face and lowering his voice. “Remember, my wife was on the phone with their mayor, getting screamed at for twenty-five minutes.”

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but nothing came out. Yeah, okay. He had a point. That wasn’t exactly fair, I guess.

“Fine,” I said.

I’d behave tonight, but I expected the same from them. No drama.

The townspeople filled the house, some in masks and others in face paint, dresses and jewelry glittering in the candle light. I did a double-take, zoning in on their eyes to see who I could recognize in their disguises.

Some. But not all.

Something nipped at me. This was no longer smart. People were just walking into the house. No one was even checking invitations.

There was no security other than Lev, David, and a few others circulating the grounds, and there were no guards at the door.

We didn’t invite trouble, but as the years passed, we acquired more. More land, more real estate, more power, more money… And when you get anything worth having, someone would eventually try to take it.

We’d been lucky so far. Too lucky.

“We ready?” Em called out.

But before I could turn back and reply, a voice boomed from the stairs. “‘Lot 666, then!’”

Emmy startled, twisting around, and all of our eyes followed to see a man in a cape and a white mask covering half of his face.

“‘A chandelier in pieces!’”

I laughed, putting my worries aside and recognizing Will instantly. Michael shook his head, unable to hide his smile.

The kids giggled as Will jogged down the stairs, whipping his cape all about. “‘Some of you may recall the strange affair of The Phantom of the Opera.’”

“Daddy!” II laughed.

Will spun in a circle, making eye contact with all the kids. “‘A mystery never fully explained!’”

And then, on cue, the orchestra and refurbished organ above us belted out the dramatic overture from The Phantom of the Opera, making the hair on my arms rise again.

The floor vibrated under my shoes, and my pulse quickened.

Winter couldn’t smile any bigger if she tried.