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“Kill him.”
The moment the words leave Baldwin’s mouth, Diana knows she never should have released her spell, never should have let enough air enter his lungs for him to even begin to threaten her son.
That was her first mistake. Her second is assuming Matthew will agree with her.
Instead of the immediate recoil she expects, Matthew’s eyes close for a moment.
“God help me,” he whispers, and she stares at him in dawning disbelief.
He stands and a brief, silent conversation passes between the brothers. Baldwin does not waver.
“Do it,” he says sharply.
There is a hopelessness in the set of Matthew’s shoulders, and as soon as her husband turns to face Jack, she knows she will be fighting this battle alone.
It hurts, but a quiet part of her is not surprised.
Matthew is a creature of duty, of loyalty. He’s a soldier, not a commander—despite how desperately he play-acts at one.
Fine. Diana will bear the burden of defiance for the both of them, and Matthew can find his solace knowing that she won’t let his loyalty to her or their family waver—no matter what fucking Baldwin de Clermont has to say about it.
“Do not” —Diana’s voice cuts through the room and the brothers’ eyes flick to her— “take a single step toward our son, Matthew de Clermont.”
Baldwin’s lip twists in displeasure, a fraction away from a sneer.
“This is a vampire matter. I will not let a witch—” He cuts off suddenly as Diana flicks her hand in his direction, yanking the air out his lungs with viscous pleasure.
“You don’t ‘let’ me do anything,” she says coolly.
“Diana,” Matthew starts, only to falter when her icy gaze lands on him again.
“I cannot believe you’re even considering this,” she hisses. “I understand you’ve made sacrifices to control the spread of blood rage—” Matthew twitches in an aborted flinch, “—but I will not let my son become a casualty of your sunk cost fallacy. It has to end, Matthew. Now. And if your brother disagrees, he can damn well accept our generous offer of forming a scion and wash his fucking hands of it.”
“I will do no such thing,” Baldwin snaps, though his voice is gratifyingly faint, still recovering from her rough treatment.
She tilts her head, the fire of the goddess pouring through her veins and rushing in her ears loud enough to drown out whatever fraction of a conscience she had left after their time in the past.
“Then you will die.”
Baldwin reels as Matthew shouts. “Diana, enough!”
She hardly hears them.
“Jack,” she says steadily. “Go upstairs.”
“Mum—”
“That was not a request,” she says, eyes never leaving the now-wary de Clermont brothers. “Gallowglass, help him.”
She hears Gallowglass mumble something encouraging as he helps Jack up. The knowledge that there is someone watching over him unravels one of the strands of burning tension in her gut. He begins to lead Jack up the stairs, pausing for a moment to look at Diana, his face conflicted.
“Hey, auntie?” he calls, in the kind way that only Gallowglass can.
“Yes?”
“Don’t kill ‘em.”
She lets her mouth shift into the shadow of a smile. “Matthew will be fine.”
As Gallowglass and Jack disappear, the reality of the situation seems to dawn on Matthew, and he raises his hands slowly, palms up as if that's enough to calm her down.
“Diana,” Matthew says for the third time, softer now, taking a slow step toward her, “Jack is safe now. We can just talk. Baldwin can listen to reason, I swear.”
Baldwin makes a disgruntled sound, and Matthew shoots him a sharp look.
Diana inspects Matthew's expression, then Baldwin's, the former sincere and the latter angery yet afraid. She wonders if Baldwin really can step past his pride to save his own skin, to save the unity of the de Clermont family.
“Can you, Baldwin?” she asks, a hint of mocking in her tone. “Or will yielding to the request of a witch be too humiliating for the great and noble head of the de Clermont family? What is it they say… death before dishonor?”
“You're not just any witch, mon coeur, ” Matthew says, jumping in before Baldwin can respond. “You're my mate and a bloodsworn daughter of Phillipe de Clermont. Baldwin may not listen to a witch, but he will listen to family.”
Baldwin and Matthew wage another silent war, each battle no more than a tilt or the head and a flick of the eyes, before Baldwin nods, jaw tight.
“You shall be allowed a chance to plead your case,” he says stiffly.
Diana smiles, all teeth and threat. “Thank you.”
A sigh of relief escapes Matthew, and he takes another step toward her, hand outstretched as if to bring her into his arms only to stop when she lifts a warning palm.
“Don't think I'm finished with you just because your brother is seeing reason,” she says, eyes narrowed. “I haven't forgotten how easily your loyalty to our family was swayed.”
This time Matthew does flinch, and the wounded look on his face is almost enough to crumble her resolve.
There isn't time to address it now, not when she has Baldwin to deal with.
She gestures to the living room. “Shall we?”
----
By the time Baldwin stumbles out of Fernando's home, everyone is exhausted.
Matthew has his head bowed, and Diana feels as though she's moments from sleeping away the rest of the year. Despite it all, her expression is satisfied.
“Congratulations,” Diana says eventually, and Matthew lifts his head. “You're the head of a scion now.”
He scrubs his hands over his face. “The fracturing of my family is hardly something to be congratulated.”
“We are all alive, and we are free to protect the lives of our children,” she says. “That's enough of a reason for me.”
“...yes,” he says after a moment before shaking his head. “But this does not solve our problems.” He looks at her, lost. “Diana, you saw those pictures. He's been slaughtering warmbloods. Something has to be done.”
“And something will be done,” she insists. “You didn't look at his face, Matthew, not like I did. He was afraid, ashamed. I'm not even sure he entirely knows what he's doing.” She shakes her head. “We need to talk with Father Hubbard, learn how all of this happened.”
Matthew nods, weary. Diana sighs, moving to sit next to him on the couch and lifting a hand to cup his face.
“Thank you,” she says.
“What for?”
“For not letting me go too far,” she admits. “For listening to me. For being willing to change.”
She brings their foreheads together in a gentle touch.
“We will make this right,” she promises. “We’ll protect Jack and the de Clermont name. I swear it.”
The breath Matthew takes is shuddering, and he pulls her into his arms, clutching her tightly.
“Okay,” he says into her hair. “Okay. I trust you.”