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I swallow the lump in my throat. The tension in the room is palpable, and I have so many questions. “How did he betray your Order?”

Sebastian takes a long swig of his drink, then looks at me. “He delved into dark magick and then used his new powers to slay a priest and his disciples. Dozens died by his hand.”

I can feel the blood drain from my face. "Why? Why would he do such a thing?"

Liam rubs at the scars on his arm. "The priest was burning women," he says, staring into the fire, the flames growing under his gaze. "He and his followers. If a woman opposed them, angered them in any way, they would declare her a witch and burn her at the stake."

"What the hell? That's…horrifying," I say. "They had to be stopped—"

"Yes, they had to be stopped," Sebastian says firmly, "but not that way. Not through cold-blooded murder. That was not—is not—our way. We could have persuaded the priest to change his ways. Our brother could have—"

"Cole," Derek says, interrupting Sebastian as he stands and faces the group. "His name was Cole. And he did what needed to be done. What we all should have done."

Cole. Cole Night. The man who haunts my dreams has a name. Is this why I feel such a pull to him, because of his connection to this family?

Sebastian frowns. “I recall you having a different opinion at the time, when we found out the truth of his actions." Sebastian's voice is like ice. "Cole," he says with derision, "was punished fairly.”

“Cole,” Liam says softly, caressing the name like something very fragile. “I haven’t spoken that name in so very long.”

His tender words deflate the argument in the room. Even Sebastian softens, seeing the look on Liam's face, hearing the pain in his voice.

“It may have been Cole that Eve saw,” says Elijah. “Or it may have been a look-a-like. A doppelgänger."

"Escaping should have been impossible," Sebastian says.

"And yet, isn't our very existence proof that the impossible is anything but?" Elijah asks, holding out his hands.

"It's not a coincidence that Eve saw him—or someone looking like him—the night of the explosion," Derek says, furrowing his brow in worry. "He could be seeking revenge."

"We mustn't jump to conclusions," Elijah says, "but we can't dismiss the possibility that he escaped.” He pauses. “We must be sure. We must go back.”

Liam scowls. “I swore I would never return to that forsaken place.”

“Then you can stay," Elijah says. "But I will go."

“Go where?” I ask.

“To the birthplace of our Order," Elijah says softly. "To the place our brother was imprisoned.”

“You want to travel to England?” asks Liam. “Not exactly an easy trip without a dryad. How do you propose we—”

“I can help,” comes a familiar voice. Lily. She's standing in the doorway, leaning on a cane, a blanket draped over her slim shoulders. She looks weak, weary, but her skin is healed of the burns, only some puckered skin remains in the places she was injured the worst.

“Lily!” I stand and walk over to her, hugging her gently.

She chuckles. "I won't break. I'm stronger than I look."

I pull away and study her as the brothers crowd around us. "We've been so worried."

Liam—ever the healer—feels her head and her pulse and studies her carefully.

Lily rolls her eyes. "I'm well, Uncle. I swear," she says, giving Liam's hand a squeeze. "Matilda told me about your arrest, and I overheard what you said about Cole. I can move the castle to England."

“No,” says Liam. “You are in no condition to travel.”

"But if she can—" Elijah says, ever the pragmatist.

"No," Liam says again, this time more firmly. "I am her healer, and I say she needs at least another week of rest. I will not compromise her health for our convenience."