“Roderick, do something,” Delphine snarled, grabbing my lapel, her nails in the silk.

“You’re the primary sponsor.

Demand a recount.

Crush those kids.” I caught her wrist and peeled her hand off me and leaned in, and my voice dropped to a register of cold menace I had not used in a decade.

“Be quiet, Delphine.

Right now.

Or I swear I’ll dismantle your life before we reach the parking lot.” She froze, her eyes wide with sudden animal fear.

I stood.