Van’s father, Elliot Woodridge, finally piped up. “If we can cease the dramatics, and get on with our respective days—”

I slapped my palm flat on the table in front of me. “I know how this works and I know the laws. Sign them. Now. Sign them or I walk.”

“If you left the proceedings, a warrant would be issued for noncompliance,” Patrice said gently. “That carries a fine and possible jail time.”

“I know.” This was an official UTC summons, and their word was law. None of that bothered me. The way they were already talking, though, if I left? Lou would lose her license. Maybe Dr. Larsen, too. I didn’t want that, but I wouldn’t let them railroad her, either. Here’s hoping they don’t fight me on this. “I don’t care.”

Surprise stamped Prisha’s face. “You can’t mean that.” She glared at Lou. “This is low. Of all of the childish responses. Leave him be and face your consequences.”

They thought my response was being controlled by Lou. Great.

Lou paled, but her eyes never left me. I knew she could feel my turmoil and read all of my body language. She knew something was terribly, horribly wrong. She also knew that telling the council to suck it wouldn’t count much in her favor. Still, her lips lifted briefly, and she reached out and took my hand. She didn’t say anything, but I could hear her emotions loud and clear through our bond, and they were saying, I got you.

“I think you should do as Declan says.” Lou’s voice was firm, and the look she threw the Tribunal was steely. “Now.”

It took thirty minutes of grumbling from the Tribunal and various court officers and a lot of paper rustling until the courtroom was handed NDAs to sign. Lou absently rubbed my back, making small circles with her hands. I didn’t think she even realized she was doing it. Prisha glared at her, and for a second, Lou took her hand off my back. I glared at Prisha, grabbed Lou’s hand, and put it back on me. I needed that comfort right now and the tribunal could fuck right off.

Once everyone had turned their signatures in, Elliot Woodridge, who looked like he’d sucked about an orchard’s worth of lemons, spoke. “Now, we’ve indulged you. May we please get on with this circus? I’m a busy man.”

I nodded, my shoulders hunched, my elbows on my knees. I held one of Lou’s hands between both of mine and was absently playing with her fingers. When was the last time I’d held someone’s hand like this? There must have been times with Sid, but I couldn’t remember them. The circumstances were awful, but I was grateful for Lou’s small fingers in mine.

I cleared my throat. “My name is Declan Mackenzie. My name has also been Dean Johnson and once upon a very long time ago, it was Dermot Campbell, the oldest son of Angus Campbell.”

The room was dead silent for a long moment, and then exploded into noise. I glanced at Lou, searching for pity, but finding none. Instead, she seemed bewildered. It hadn’t clicked in yet. I squeezed her hand, giving her a slight smile. “My dad was the leader of the group known as the Moon’s Chosen People. Less charitably, we were sometimes called Loonies.”