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He lifted her carefully, and as her head dropped back, he saw the bitemarks on her throat. Tension tightened his jaw as suspicion flared in his gut. He stretched his senses outward one more time. Something felt deeply, disturbingly wrong, even though no Vamsyrian presence was nearby.

He looked at the gate, but the truth rang clear. Gates hadn’t kept him out. They wouldn’t keep out one of his kind.

“Open the gate,” he commanded reluctantly.

Gavin, eyes wary yet obedient, nodded quickly. “Aye, sir.”

“Fetch Myrna,” Broderick added over the grinding clank of iron bars being pulled back. “Tell her tae bring blankets and fresh water into the Great Hall. Quickly.”

Gavin hastened away, leaving Broderick to carry Veronique swiftly into the castle courtyard. Once behind the security of the gate, his vigilant gaze swept the shadows, suspicion hardening like ice within his chest. The night seemed unnaturally silent, as though holding its breath in anticipation.

Striding through the front entrance, Broderick’s gaze found Davina immediately, her startled eyes locked on Veronique’s ragged form. “What happened?” she breathed, her voice edged with concern.

“I dinnae ken,” Broderick growled softly as he carriedVeronique into the Great Hall, laying her carefully upon the expansive table at its center.

Davina pressed the back of her hand gently against Veronique’s forehead, alarm widening her eyes. “By the saints, she’s burning with fever.”

“Myrna!” Broderick’s voice thundered, echoing powerfully through the cavernous hall.

“I’m here,” Myrna answered tersely, entering swiftly from the foyer, one arm burdened with blankets, the other carrying a pitcher. Yet her steps halted abruptly upon seeing Veronique, her expression immediately souring. “I’ll not help the likes of her.”

“I’m nay more pleased tae see her here than ye are, but I’ll no’ turn away a wounded woman.”

Myrna’s lips tightened in stubborn silence, her displeasure clear, but finally, with a grudging nod, she relented. “Fine. But don’t expect tenderness from me.” She deposited the blankets upon a nearby chair and slammed the pitcher onto the table, water sloshing. She withdrew briskly from the hall without another glance.

As soon as they were alone, Broderick’s expression darkened further, hands trembling slightly as he grasped Veronique’s wrist and lifted it to his mouth.

“What are you doing?” Davina asked, her voice edged with worry.

“Learnin’ the truth.” Broderick’s voice was grim. He extended his fangs and pierced her pale skin swiftly.

Davina sank into a chair, eyes wide and fixed upon him, breath caught in her throat.

Broderick closed his eyes, allowing Veronique’s recent memories to cascade through his mind in vivid clarity. He saw her, weary and desperate, setting snares in the forest, roasting arabbit over a small fire, hunger gnawing at her relentlessly.

Then Angus appeared, a sinister shadow eclipsing the scene, his malevolent smile chilling Broderick to the marrow.

He watched through Veronique’s eyes as Angus forced his fangs into her flesh, draining her mercilessly, then compelled her to drink his tainted blood. The unmistakable bond formed, marking her as Angus’s blood-bound slave.

Angus’s mocking voice resonated clearly, sending a shiver down Broderick’s spine: “So ye’ve replaced yer family wi’ these scavengers, have ye? Say farewell tae yer new kin.”

Broderick released Veronique’s wrist and grimaced.

“What is it?” Davina asked, reaching toward him. “Why did you do that?”

“Feedin’ from someone will let me glean all their memories. Somethin’ all Vamsyrians can do. What her blood told me was…she’s a blood slave,” Broderick said, his voice roughened by dread. “Bound tae Angus by his blood. Her fever is from the bond—she’ll no’ survive long. A week, perhaps less.”

Davina’s gaze shifted frantically between Veronique’s pale form and Broderick’s tense expression. “I don’t understand.”

“I dinnae have time tae explain fully now, lass, but I need ye tae trust me.” Broderick lifted Veronique in his arms again. “Dae ye have a secure holdin’ place in the castle? A cell tae confine wrongdoers?”

“Aye, a small building in the back,” Davina said, her expression tight with worry, but she led the way.

With the help of Myrna, they secured Veronique in the holding cell and made her reasonably comfortable.

Broderick pointed at Myrna and Davina. “I dinnae care what she says or does, dinnae let her out of there until I get back.”

Myrna nodded and Davina followed after Broderick as hemarched back through the kitchen and headed toward the foyer, where he reached for his cloak.