Alistair absorbed my confession like a blade sliding between ribs—slow, measured, lethal. The silence that followed pressed against my ears until I thought they might bleed.
"I'll handle my mother." His voice emerged flat as hammered steel. "She won't interfere."
"She could move against you." The harder truth scraped out. "If she truly believes you're compromised, she has the authority. The documents from your father's death—she could petition the magistrate, claim you're unfit—"
"Nothing will be taken from me." The possessiveness surfaced with that cold focus I'd learned to fear. His hands finally dropped from the door, releasing me from his cage. "Not my title. Not my lands. Not you."
"Alistair—"
"Leave it to me alone." He stepped back, each movement too controlled, too precise. "Go to bed, Helena. I might come later, but for now I need distance from you. From your scent. From the child's heartbeat that drums against my skull."
"You're dismissing me?"
"I'm saving you." He turned his back, shoulders rigid. "Go. Now. Before I do something we'll both regret."
I fled down the tower stairs, his winter presence still clinging to my skin like frost. The corridors stretched empty and dark, my footsteps echoing off stone that had witnessed centuries of secrets.
Our bedchamber offered no sanctuary. The sheets tangled around my legs as I twisted, searching for sleep that wouldn't come.
The clock struck two. Then three. My mind churned through scenarios—Kathrin's machinations, Nathaniel's silver stakes, Alistair's barely-leashed hunger.
A new worry cut through the spiral. I rose, crossed to the connecting door that led to Maeve's guest chamber. "Maeve? Are you awake?"
Silence.
I pushed the door open. Moonlight spilled across an empty bed, covered neat, untouched since the maids' afternoon service. My pulse spiked hard enough to hurt.
"Damn you, Maeve." The curse escaped as I yanked on my cloak and boots. Bold, curious, convinced she could handle whatever darkness she found.
I grabbed a lantern but left it unlit until I'd cleared the servants' entrance. The flame caught on the third strike, throwing wild shadows across frost-burned gardens. March wind cut through wool.
The formal gardens stretched empty. The rose walk—nothing. I moved toward the eastern grounds where Nathaniel checked his traps after midnight, telling myself I'd find them quickly.
A figure burst from the treeline at a dead run.
My heart slammed against ribs as I clutched my belly, protecting the life within. Then moonlight caught his face—Nathaniel, chest heaving, sweat cutting tracks through dirt on his skin.
"Christ, Helena!" He skidded to a stop before me, grabbing my shoulders. "Why are you out here?"
"Maeve's missing from the castle." The words tumbled out fast. "Her bed's untouched. I feared she'd gone out alone into the night—"
"We have a bigger problem." His fingers dug deeper into my shoulders. "The elder has her."
"What?" Ice flooded my veins.
"The vampire that turned your husband. It took her." He released me, raking hands through his hair. "I was checking the north boundary when I heard her scream. By the time I reached the clearing—gone. Just blood on the snow and her hair ribbon caught on a branch."
"You incompetent bastard!" The rage erupted before thought could cage it. "You're supposed to be this legendary vampire hunter, trained since childhood, and you couldn't save one woman?"
His face went granite-hard. "This foe has evaded the Order for three centuries." His voice turned savage. "You think one hunter can bar it forever? It moves like smoke, strikes like lightning. I'm one man with silver stakes against something that predates the Crown."
"I don't care what it's evaded!" My voice cracked higher, hysteria bleeding through. "You know their weaknesses. You've killed them before, haven't you? But when it actually matters, when my friend needs you, you're just another useless man with a blade!"
The truth of it rattled through me. I thought of Maeve's noble blood, her fierce intelligence, what it would mean if the elder turned her—another node in its network of corrupted nobility.
"Helena—"
"She trusted us!" Tears burned hot, blurring my vision. "I brought her here for safety, promised her protection from Pemberton, and now she's being drained or turned or worse because you failed!"
My breath came in sharp gasps, each one tighter than the last. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. My legs started to buckle.
"The Order trained you for this." The words emerged broken between sobs. "Twenty years of preparation, and you couldn't stop one vampire from taking her. What if it comes for the baby next? What if—"
Nathaniel grabbed my face between his palms and crushed his mouth to mine—hard, desperate, swallowing my panic with fierce heat. His body radiated warmth from the run, blood pumping hot through living veins, everything Alistair would never possess. The kiss shocked my system like cold water on flame, forcing air back into my lungs, steadying the world that had started to tilt.
I kissed him back from pure instinct, muscle memory taking over, remembering all those stolen afternoons that had led to the child growing beneath my heart. His hands tangled in my hair, anchoring me to the present instead of the spiraling terror.
"Breathe." He pulled back just enough to search my face. "Are you calm?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice, chest still heaving but panic receding.
"We need the household." His thumb brushed tears from my cheek with surprising gentleness. "Search parties, torches, every man who can hold a weapon. We sweep the grounds before dawn—"
"Wait." The word emerged steady as an idea crystallized—sharp, dangerous, possibly their only chance. "I know what to do."
"What?" He searched my face in the lantern light. "Helena, we're wasting time—"
"No. Listen to me." I gripped his arms, feeling muscle coiled tight beneath leather. "We need help, but not search parties stumbling blind through darkness. We need something the elder can't ignore."
"Speak plainly."
"Not here." I glanced at the treeline where shadows could hide anything. "Inside first. This requires precision, not panic."
He studied me for a heartbeat, weighing trust against urgency. "You have a plan."
I pulled him into motion, our boots crushing frost as we raced back. We plunged through the servants' entrance, my mind racing ahead to what came next.