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“I…am not permitted to share its contents,” Fletcher replied, his tone hesitant but steady.

Broderick’s jaw clenched, his gaze piercing. “I smell blood. Whose blood is it?”

The young monk’s lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across his expression. “You are a Vamsyrian,” he breathed.

Broderick inclined his head once, a grim acknowledgment.

Fletcher’s eyes darted around the infirmary, as though afraid the shadows themselves might overhear. He lowered his voice to a thread. “We are bound not to reveal the source,” he admitted, near a whisper. “But know this—it is Vamsyrian blood. It is the core of the cure.”

“But Vamsyrian blood will only help her temporarily.” Amuscle feathered in Broderick’s cheek as he weighed the revelation, battle warring within him. This was a mistake.

“This is no ordinary Vamsyrian,” the monk whispered even softer. “That is all I can say. She will be cured. You have my word.”

Davina whimpered softly, her frail body sagging against him like a wilted flower. That small sound unraveled his hesitation.

“Go on, then,” he said, voice rough.

Brother Fletcher inclined his head and lifted the cup once more. He held it to Davina’s lips. With Broderick’s support, she sipped, weak and tentative at first. The brew passed her lips, and about halfway finished, color bloomed faintly in her pallid cheeks.

Davina lifted her hand to the cup and finished the rest of the brew on her own. Her shivering eased. Her breaths grew steadier, deeper. Slowly, her lashes fluttered open, and her gaze, though hazed with weariness, found Broderick’s face.

She smiled.

Relief shattered his tension. He swallowed hard, his thumb brushing tenderly over her knuckles.

“I’m here, Blossom,” he managed, a smile tugging at his lips. “Ye’re goin’ tae be all right.”

The nuns removed all but a couple of the blankets, adjusting them over Davina as she grew more aware. One of them offered a gentle smile. “Rest now, dear. We will prepare a permanent room for you shortly.”

At this, Broderick’s head snapped up, his gaze hardening. “Nay,” he said, voice firm as iron. “She’s no’ stayin’.”

The nuns exchanged wary glances, and Fletcher stepped forward, uncertainty shadowing his expression. “But…that is not the arrangement. Those who seek the cure must remain within the monastery for their protection. The Vamsyrian Council may come looking for her.”

Broderick shook his head once, slow and resolute. “Trust me when I say the Council doesnae typically trouble themselves with those who go wi’ the Army of Light—at least, not in Aberdeen. Unless someone here shares her identity, none will come after her.”

“But—”

Broderick rose to his full height, cutting him off. “I also have other business. With Father Beaumont.”

Fletcher’s eyes widened slightly. “Father Beaumont does not receive visitors.”

Broderick slipped a hand into his cloak and withdrew the sealed scroll canister, holding it aloft in his fist. “Perhaps this will change his mind.”

Fletcher examined the seal, his features tightening with recognition. For a heartbeat, he looked as though he might take the scroll—but Broderick’s grip tightened, and he drew it back. “I was instructed to deliver it to him personally.”

The young monk hesitated, then bowed his head in reluctant acceptance. “Wait here.”

As Fletcher disappeared into the shadows of the corridor, Broderick turned back to Davina. His gaze softened, the hard edge of battle-weariness fading from his features. “How are ye feelin’ now, Blossom?”

Davina offered a weak but genuine smile, her eyes bright despite her lingering fatigue. “Like myself again,” she whispered. “No pain. No strange…cloudiness in my mind. Just…me.”

Relief swept through him, raw and fierce. Without thought, he bent toward her, claiming her lips in a brief but fervent kiss. Her cheeks flushed, her smile blooming warmer as their mouthsparted.

“Thank God,” he breathed, his voice rough with unspoken prayers.

A short while later, Brother Fletcher returned, his expression more composed yet still tinged with unease. “Father Beaumont will see you now,” he announced, bowing slightly. “Please, follow me.”

Broderick glanced down at Davina, who met his gaze with a reassuring smile. “Go on,” she whispered. “I’ll be fine. I feel stronger by the moment.”