“Night!” Lilian stumbled towards him and he sensed the others closing in on him.

He sagged back to rest on his heels, his shoulders slumping as he stared at Jana and a strange feeling swept through him. Lightness. Relief. It was over.

Lilian wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her forehead against his cheek, and he dropped his sword and banded his arms around her. That sense of relief grew stronger as he held her in his arms, growing aware that she was safe now.

Or at least he hoped she was.

He looked over her head at Beatrice as the fair-haired witch approached him. Behind her, Petra helped Maryon walk, supporting her weight.

Beatrice dipped her head. “We owe you both an apology.”

Lilian emerged from his arms and looked at the witch, and he could sense her nerves, and hope.

“You have done well, Lilian. I never should have doubted you. For that, I am eternally sorry, and I can only hope you will forgive me.” Beatrice shook her head slightly. “What we did was inexcusable, and I will understand if you no longer want anything to do with us, but if you need us, we will be there to help you. It is the least we can do.”

The least Beatrice could do was get on her knees and beg Night not to decapitate her too, but Lilian wouldn’t want that, so he held himself back. Her coven was important to her, and although he knew that it would take her a long time to overcome what they had done, he also knew that she would eventually choose to become a part of her family again.

She nodded and nestled closer to Night.

“Where’s my fancy apology?” Night drawled and sensed Grave and Isla come to a halt behind him.

His brother’s fury was palpable, stoking Night’s rage.

“I would apologise, witch,” Grave growled. “And make it a good one or I will have the First Legion pay a visit to your coven.”

Lilian cast Night a worried look and he stroked her side as he held her gaze, trying to show her that her coven would be safe from him and his brother, while not ruining their show of force.

Beatrice bowed. “To you, Night Van der Garde, I can only offer my sincerest apologies and a promise that should the Preux Chevaliers ever need the assistance of witches, they can call upon our mercenaries. If you would accept it, we can discuss terms of an alliance.”

Night muttered, “Shrewd female. An alliance would offer you protection from my wrath, as long as you continue to please my brother.”

Isla put in, “Grave is not easy to please.”

Night could practically feel Grave scowling at her as he grumbled, “I am quite easy to please. You are the difficult one in this relationship.”

Isla huffed and the air chilled.

Night grimaced as his shoulder ached in response to the cold and he shivered.

“Are we quite done here?” Lilian said and placed her hand on his chest, her eyes filled with concern as she looked at his shoulder. She shifted her gaze to Beatrice. “You will repay us for what you did by serving the Preux Chevaliers for… two decades… three?”

She looked up at Grave now.

“Five,” he growled. “Five decades of devoted service. By then I will be ready to forgive you for what you did to my brother and Lilian.”

Night arched an eyebrow up at Grave as he came to stand beside him. His brother was getting soft now he had a mate. Part of Night had expected to have to fight his brother on Lilian, to make him see that he loved her and that he didn’t care about what she had done, because he wanted to be with her.

He needed to be with her.

And here was Grave talking about not forgiving the witches for what they had done to her too.

The witches bowed their heads and moved away to attend to their fallen.

Grave held a hand out to Night.

Night took it and Grave hauled him onto his feet, and he pulled Lilian onto hers.

“All those rumours are true.” Night shook his head as he looked into Grave’s eyes.