Jem cupped her face in his hands, felt her skin warm against his palms, and felt grateful all over again for the life that had been returned to him. “We’re having a child?”

Tessa’s eyes shone. The tears had stopped, and in their wake was a look of fierce determination. Jem knew what it had cost her to lose Will, then to lose the family she’d built with him. Jem had lost a piece of himself when his parabatai died; Will’s absence had left behind a void that nothing could fill. There was, all these years later, still pain. But the pain was evidence of love, was a reminder of Will.

It was easier not to feel. It was safer not to love. It was possible to make oneself silent and still as stone, to wall oneself off from the world and its losses, to empty one’s heart. It was possible, but it was not human.

It was not worth losing the chance to love. He had learned this from the Silent Brotherhood and, before that, from Tessa. And before that, of course, from Will. They had both tried so hard to hide from the pain of future loss, to stay solitary, safe from the dangers of connection. They had failed so beautifully.

“We’re having a child,” Tessa echoed him. “I hope you’re ready to give up sleep for a few years.”

“Fortunately, I’ve got plenty of practice at that,” he reminded her. “Less so when it comes to diapers.”

“I hear they’re much improved since the last time I needed them,” Tessa said. “We’ll have to figure it out together. All of it.”

“You’re sure?” Jem said. “You want to take all this on yourself again?”

She smiled like Raphael’s Madonna. “The nappies, the sleepless nights, the endless crying, the love like you’ve never imagined was possible, like your heart is living on the outside of your body? The chaos and the fear and the pride and the chance to tuck someone in and read them to sleep? To do all of that with you? I couldn’t be more sure.”