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L anding on the floor brought me to consciousness, and reminded me of the injuries I’d forgotten in the excitement and the demands of tending to Mamma and the babes.

Dimly I heard the tumult of crying infants, men’s voices, Mamma’s frantic worry, but in my mind, I knew all was well.

I surrendered to my body’s demands for rest.

I woke in my own room, dawn’s first touch of sunlight on the wall, and through half-closed lids took inventory of my body.

My face throbbed. Towels had been stuffed under my nightgown, so I was bleeding and not at the right time of the month. I felt bruises on bruises. But all in all, considering what the previous day had been, I was fine.

I’d wakened before dawn to the news that Nonna Ursula had been attacked.

I’d gone to Friar Laurence’s shop to prepare a healing poultice and had taken it to the palace.

I’d sat with her all the hours, touching her and talking to her.

I’d comforted and counseled Princess Isabella.

I’d gone up to the tower to find Elder and instead found my One True Love and Fabulous Inventor, Lysander placing lamps on the four upright thrusting corner posts—no penile subtlety there!

He’d given me food, thank God, and showed me his luminary intent.

We’d been discovered by my betrothed, Prince Escalus, during an intimate moment. He hadn’t been pleased at our friendly banter, but in my worry about Nonna Ursula, I really hadn’t immediately registered the depth of his disquiet.

I’d descended to care for the prince’s wounded men, and when that was done, to care for Prince Escalus himself.

In a frenzy of horror at the palace kitchen, I’d gone up and, using Master Disapproving Marcellus for muscle, I’d recreated the food-prep, and with my own hands made a delicious soup to feed the men.

I’d gone to the garden and gathered scents, herbs, and flowers, hoping to guide Nonna Ursula back to life, and suffered a few worrisome moments with Friar Camillo, who had been all that was holy, proper, and helpful.

Returning to Nonna Ursula, I’d discovered Cal and Princess Isabella gobbling the rest of my soup, while Cal criticized me . . . I mean, really, what was wrong with the man? With my scents, I attempted to revive Nonna Ursula.

Unsuccessful and frustrated, I’d more or less promised Cal I wouldn’t leave the palace, for he and his men now marched on the disciplinati, who were rioting throughout Verona. What kind of idiot would go out on such a night?

This kind of idiot.

I’d spoken with Old Maria and realized Pasqueta had disappeared, but before I could investigate, Nurse had arrived with the news my mother, Lady Juliet, desperately needed me.

I arranged protection for Nonna Ursula and Princess Isabella and went into the streets with Tommaso and Nurse and .

. . well, you remember what happened then.

Certainly, I did, in far too great a detail.

And I had delivered my brothers.

I pressed my hand to my gut and tried to lift myself off the pillows.

A hand slid under my back and helped me, and startled, I turned to face the stern face of Prince Escalus.

I must have been a little woozy still, for I smiled, let him support me, and said, “Greetings.” Feeble, but I was alive; he was alive; I was happy.

His stern mouth didn’t smile—of course not. He seldom understood how to tilt his lips up at the corners—but his eyes softened. “Let me help you.”

Other hands plumped my pillows and he put me on them so gently I was almost not in pain. Almost. I touched his dark-stubbled chin. “You were successful.”

“Indeed. Your courage and Lysander’s lights dissipated the riot and the only duty for me and my men was to mop up the last of Baal’s madmen.

The real disciplinati, the flagellants, exited the city gates still alight with holy fervor.

” Holding a cup to my lips, he fed me broth thickened with porridge.

“Their leader spoke of the dark angel Baal who joined them on the road, and subverted men to his will. He accepted no blame for bringing Baal into Verona, but assured me that through your intervention, God had taken his justice on the demon.”

“In the future, I’d prefer not to intervene in such matters.”

“That would be best.”

“Nonna Ursula?” He wouldn’t be here, would he, if she had passed?

“She stirs.” No smile, but he radiated pleasure. “Wakes, drinks, eats, sleeps.”

I touched the place over my heart. “Such good news. Does she remember?”

“She doesn’t speak.”

That was disappointing. “She needs time. It will come.” It must! “How’s your shoulder?”

He rotated it. “Good. The fighting improved it.”

“Of course, it did.” I closed my eyes for only a moment, but when I opened them, it was afternoon and Lysander sat where Cal had been, holding a tiny, sleeping infant.

Gentle reader, if you’re of the female persuasion, you can probably imagine my thoughts at the sight.

Itty-bitty baby resting asleep on that warm manly chest, utterly trusting and secure.

One miniature foot, with its soft, curling toes falling from the blankets, and Lysander fussing, tucking it back in while he pats and rubs and jiggles.

Seeing him holding that sweetums, that precious newborn .

. . if I weren’t already in love with Lysander, I would be now.

Although . . . two men in my bedroom, one after another . . .

What had the family given me that I was hallucinating?

Lysander observed me looking at him and the babe. “He’s so tiny!” he said in awe.

Maybe not a hallucination. Maybe an apparition, like Elder?

Don’t even think it, Rosie. “Another two months in the womb would have been beneficial.” I sounded like Friar Laurence, and that wasn’t whom I wanted Lysander to think of when he saw me. “What’s his name?”

“Adino!” Cesario shouted.

The babe didn’t even flinch. Already he was used to the loud and lusty Montague voices.

I looked toward the sound of Cesario’s voice.

Ah. That explained the male presence by my bedside. All of my siblings and my papà were crowded into the room, watching me. Lysander and I had sufficient chaperonage.

“Adino means ‘adornment,’ ” Cesario added. He held baby #2 against his shoulder with an older brother’s insouciance. “This one’s Efron. It means ‘doubly blessed.’”

I laughed gently, careful not to hurt myself. “Perfect. May I . . . ?”

Lysander stood and placed Adino beside me in bed. I wrapped my arms around him. “Look at you,” I crooned. Tears seeped from my eyes.

“Rosie, don’t you like our babies?” Cesario sounded shocked and concerned.

Imogene bumped him. “She’s crying because she’s happy.”

“That’s stupid,” Cesario said.

“It’s a girl thing,” Lysander told him.

“Ah. Va bene. ” From Imogene, Cesario thought it was stupid. From Lysander, Cesario accepted and gazed at him in wide-eyed hero worship.

I looked to Papà. “Mamma?”

“She’s well. Nurse is with her. She grows restless to see you, but the midwife demands she remain in bed.”

“I’ll go to her tomorrow.”

Papà removed Efron from Cesario’s grasp and brought him to lie beside his brother. “They sleep better together.”

My siblings crowded close.

I touched the babes’ wrinkled foreheads, their tiny chins. Every other part of them was swaddled in layers of blankets. “They are perfect?” I asked. “They suckle?”

Papà nodded. “Friar Laurence came at once to christen them, and he said they’re miracles. Too small, but they breathe easily and vigorously take the teat.”

“Miracles,” I agreed. “I don’t know how we’ll tell one from the other.”

“They both look like Grandpapa Montague, and they’ll change as they grow.” Imogene stroked Efron’s head. “This is our winemaker. Adino”—she stroked his head, too—“will be an inventor like Lysander.”

“I want to be an inventor like Lysander!” Cesario proclaimed.

“I thought you wanted to be a great swordsman like Papà,” Emilia said.

“I’ll be a great swordsman inventor! You’re jealous because you can’t do either, because you’re a girl.”

Cesario sometimes forgot that Emilia could beat him up, but now she reminded him.

Papà sighed and separated them. “Come on. Kiss Rosie, and then we’ll feed the animals.”

“What animals, Papà?” Cesario asked.

“You animals,” Papà said.

My siblings lined up, youngest to oldest, and kissed me on the forehead. Emilia whispered, “Your black eye is awesome.”

Katherina laid her cheek against mine for a long moment. “You scared us so much!”

Lysander was next to the last in line, ahead of Papà; and with Papà watching, he didn’t kiss me, but he did cup my cheek. “Your black eye is awesome,” he said, and lifted Efron from the bed and, hugging him, took him from my room.

Papà kissed me on the forehead and nodded in approval.

“Your black eye is the badge of a warrior, as if we needed proof that our eldest daughter has a brave, loving, and true heart.” He took Adino and that tiny face screwed up as if to complain about his loss of warmth.

“Thank you for coming to your mamma’s aid, Rosie, and helping us produce two more blessings. May God reward you for your valor.”

I smiled to see him with his son. “Papà, this animal would like to eat, too.”

“Your meal is here.” Papà moved toward the door and revealed Cal behind him.