The grand ballroom of the Lycan Kingdom was wall-to-wall with every noble, dignitary, and hanger-on that the new alliance could scrape from the edges of the world.

I stood at the center of it all holding my six-month-old daughter in my arm. Lyra was heavier than she looked, which was saying something, because she was already the size of a small badger and nearly as feral when she wanted to be. She slept now, jaw slack, a little bubble of drool catching the light on her lower lip.

Darren’s ...