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"He's dead," I say. It's not a question. I remember the sound he made, a last, thin exhale as life left him. The last sound he’ll ever make.

"Yes." Liam brushes hair out of my eyes and examines my face with one hand, while keeping the other on the bed touching mine. “How do you feel? Something…something happened to you. I came at the end, but for a moment I saw. You glowed like the moon.” He looks almost frightened.

"I don't know,” I say. “I still can't entirely remember." And then I suck in my breath as more details come back to me. "What happened in court? Did the judge see the memory of Jerry covered in blood?"

My heart beats frantically against my chest as I realize we need to get back, to tell the others what happened. But Liam moves his hand to cover mine, our fingers intertwining, the heat between us growing—and this time it has nothing to do with his Druid powers.

"The trial is over,” he says. “The jury has reached a verdict and my brothers are at court now to hear it. I gave them the Memory Catcher in time.” His lips curls in a smile. “Though apparently there had been a delay. Something about a dryad running naked through the courtroom. She got away though, her face unseen.”

I chuckle lightly, but it hurts my ribs and turns into a groan.

Liam stiffens at the sound of my pain. “I came back for you as soon as I could,” he says. “I brought you home, and Matilda sent word to the court of your altercation with Jerry. She explained, in great detail, how you acted in self-defense.”

I pause. “But if you only arrived at the end, how could you know what happened?”

A playful smile crosses his lips. “I may have told the enforcers I saw the entire attack. With your previous testimony, and the memory of Jerry covered in blood, it was not hard to convince them of your innocence. You will, however, have to answer some questions eventually. The Enforcers will need your first-hand account.”

I nod. "So the court saw the memory?”

Liam nods. "They know everything."

"So they have to find Dracula innocent, right?"

"It does seem likely, though you never know until the end. It's just the way of things." He shrugs like it doesn't matter, but I know it does. It matters in so many ways.

"What will you do?" I ask. "When the sire bond is broken?" I hold my breath, waiting for his reply.

"I do not know," he says, turning away from my gaze. "There is much we need to consider."

Is he thinking of me, I wonder? But his eyes are far away. Fixated on the fire. There is someone else tugging at his heart. And I think back, to all the things Liam said these past months.I took this case for Mary.I was her healer.

“You were more, weren’t you?” I ask hesitantly.

“What do you mean?”

“More than her healer.” I place a hand on his face and pull it back to me gently. "The baby. He was yours, wasn't he? You weren't just helping Mary deliver her baby. You were helping her deliveryourbaby."

His eyes glisten with unshed emotion and he nods. "Babies," he says, in such a whisper I almost don't hear him.

"Babies?" I ask, sucking in a breath, thinking of Mary's last wish. That her babies would be protected. "There was more than one?"

He nods. "Twins. I… "

He pulls away from me and stands, pacing back and forth nervously. Cold rushes in where his warmth once existed and I find myself missing having him close.

I take another sip of water and place my goblet down, then slowly rise, moving carefully so as not to pass out. I take a step towards him, then another, until I have reached him.

"Liam. What happened?" I keep my voice soothing and calm, like I would if talking to a wild animal. He has that power in him, that wild, untamed madness that all the Night brothers have so much of.

"I was too late," he says, his voice breaking. "I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know what. When I showed up, she was already dead, covered in blood, the baby killed. It was a massacre. It took me a moment to realize…” he sucks in his breath, then lets it out in one long, slow exhale before continuing. Each word costs him a piece of his soul to say. “She was still in labor."

It’s my turn to suck in my breath. I had several theories, but this wasn’t one of them. I reach for his hand, taking it in mine, my icy fingers thawing at his touch, as our fingers once again intertwine. I stay still and silent, creating the space he needs to tell his story.

"She was pregnant with twins. She didn't want anyone to know. Didn't want to jinx it. She said she'd had nightmares that one of the babies died. So she refused to speak about the children to anyone but me." He pauses. “We weren’t close, Mary and me. Not really. Our time together was one of passion, but little else, and each time I regretted it. Still, for some reason she trusted me. Trusted me with the truth above all others.” With his free hand he runs his fingers roughly through his wild auburn hair. "I…I delivered my daughter into the gore of her mother and brother's deathbed. And then I ran. Like a coward, I took her and I ran, telling no one."

His grief breaks him, and I pull him into a fierce embrace. His arms wind around my waist as mine wrap around his neck, and he presses his body into me, his face buried in the crook of my neck, his tears drenching my shoulder as his sobs tear free from him.

The pain he’s been holding in and using to feed his rage pours out of him, and I catch it all, staying strong enough for the both of us so that he can break, just for a moment.