Aldric Voss planned a midnight gala to bind every rival ruler to him. He would offer each one a gift. Each gift would carry a hidden price. But tonight, in his throne room, he had nothing worth offering. A host with empty hands earns no respect. His black velvet throne sat beneath tall dark windows. His crown of twisted antlers felt heavy. He turned the problem over and found no answer. His dark eyes fell on the wall above the throne. There hung a mount of polished obsidian antlers, sharp and gleaming. He had made it years ago. Its surface held tiny flaws, thin cracks that caught the light like trapped lightning. He had almost thrown it out. Now he studied it and smiled. A gift needed a price the receiver could not see. The antlers could hold one. He lifted the mount from the wall. It was lighter than he expected. He carried it to a table and poured a glass of elderberry wine, so dark it looked black. He dipped a cloth and worked the wine into the cracks. The liquid sank in and vanished. He whispered into the obsidian as he worked. He named the price: every eye that admired this gift would owe him one secret, given without knowing. The cracks drank the wine and sealed shut. The sheen deepened. The flaws became veins of color, purple and blue, like something alive beneath the stone. "You've made it worse," said a voice behind him. Aldric turned. A fairy perched on the window ledge, wings like colored glass folding against his back. Pale lines marked his gray skin. He had served the shadow court longer than Aldric had worn the crown, and he never flattered. "Worse how?" Aldric asked. The fairy drifted down and studied the antlers. His wings caught the light. "A gift that takes a secret takes from everyone who looks. You. Your servants. Me." He pointed at the stone. "I looked. What did I give it?" Aldric had not thought of that. The spell did not choose. It took from all eyes, not only guests'. He felt the cost settle in his chest. "Then I keep it covered until the gala," he said. "No one looks before the rulers do." "And the rulers will fight to own it," the fairy said. "A prize that beautiful makes enemies before it makes friends." Aldric lifted the mount. The veins pulsed once, slow, like a heartbeat. He had his signature gift. He had the price hidden inside it. Now he had a rarer problem. He held something every rival would want, and only one could receive it. The others would envy, and envy would come to his gala wearing a smile and a knife. He set the antlers down and covered them with a dark cloth. The hard part was no longer making the gift. It was deciding who would get it.