Cara’s current state was Raven’s fault. She’d failed to protect her from their stepfather when they were children. She’d failed to protect Cara when a vampyre attacked them in Florence. Now Cara’s fiancé was seriously injured, and they were at the mercy of ten vampyre soldiers and their leader.

The soldiers had been tasked with delivering the women to their old friend Father Kavanaugh at the Vatican. They were a peace offering given by the new Prince of Florence to his enemy, the Curia. William had…

Raven halted her thoughts.

She didn’t have time to dwell on the past. She didn’t have time to grieve his loss or curse him for what he had or hadn’t done. Through a great force of will, she ignored the feeling in the pit of her stomach and focused on the present.

She needed to protect her sister. She needed to ensure they reached Rome alive.

A shout sounded to Raven’s left, and her captor slowed. They climbed what seemed like a steep, rocky hill and went about twenty paces before he heaved her roughly to the ground.

The soldier took a large step back, staring down at her with undisguised contempt before striding away.

He’d deposited her in a copse of trees, seemingly protected. She searched the darkness, eagerly looking for her sister. Thankfully, Cara had been placed on the ground nearby, sprawled across the roots of a tree. Raven crawled to her side.

“A short rest,” announced Stefan, the leader of the group. “We’ll take cover for the day in Umbria. Princess Simonetta is an ally, and the Prince’s couriers should have informed her of our presence.”

Raven only half-listened as she examined her sister. Cara was breathing steadily, eyes closed.

Raven squeezed her hand. “Cara.”

She didn’t respond.

Raven tried again and again. Cara made no movement.

Raven struggled to her feet, ignoring the searing pain that shot from ankle to hip in her disabled leg. She stumbled toward Stefan, biting the inside of her cheek against the pain.

“I need you to examine my sister.”

The French Canadian gave her a scornful look. “I don’t treat human beings.”

“She’s been unconscious for hours. She may be in a coma.”

Stefan favored her with his back and began to speak to the largest soldier, who was commanding the detachment that surrounded them.

“I’m talking to you.” Raven lifted her voice in Italian, barely keeping hold of her temper.

“I don’t engage in conversations with food. Especially food that suffers from hysteria.” Stefan spoke over his shoulder before continuing his conversation.

“Hysteria?” Raven seethed. “You misogynistic asshole.”

A series of growls rose from the soldiers, and she watched as they approached her from all sides.

Stefan glanced pointedly from the soldiers to Raven. “You were saying?”

“That you’re an asshole. You all are.” She limped sideways, placing herself between the vampyres and her sister. “We belong to the Curia. She may be dying, and you’re neglecting her. What do you think the Curia will do when you show up with a corpse?”

Stefan twitched, his gaze moving to Cara.

Raven followed the path of his eyes. “Maximilian attacked her. Aoibhe gave her some of her blood in order to heal her. She’s been unconscious ever since.”

“Lady Aoibhe?” One of the soldiers laughed. “That wench wouldn’t spare a drop of blood to save her own mother.”

“She fed her,” Raven insisted. “Not much, but enough to heal her.”

Raven switched her attention to Stefan. “You need to examine my sister. Now.”

Stefan sniffed. “You don’t give orders. Your master is dead; you’re chattel to be traded for peace. I have the priest’s letter in my pocket.”

Her green eyes flashed. “We belong to the Curia. If you don’t help my sister, they’ll kill you.”

“Knock it on the head.” One of the soldiers swung his sword. “Then we won’t have to listen to it prattle.”

“Touch me and you’re dead.” Raven turned in a circle, staring each of them down. “What do you think the Curia will do if we arrive damaged? They’ll kill you. All of you. And I’ll dance around your corpses.”

“Difficult to dance with a crippled leg,” a soldier mocked, miming her disability.

“Enough.” Someone moved forward.

All grumbling and growling ceased.

He was a head and shoulders taller than the others, placing him at well over six feet. His chest was broad, and his arms and legs were wide and powerful.

He stood toe to toe with Raven, peering down at her with dark, fathomless eyes.

“Sunrise approaches.” His Italian was spoken with an Eastern European accent. “Stefan, see to the human. Then we must go.”

“You aren’t in a position to issue commands, Borek.” Stefan crossed his arms over his chest. “Prince Machiavelli placed me in charge.”

Borek’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, his eyes never leaving Raven’s. “I’m in command of this detachment. My mission is to deliver the females to the Curia, unharmed. Don’t make me kill you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Stefan sputtered, uncrossing his arms. “I’m a member of the Consilium.”

Borek turned his head a fraction, and his eyes met Stefan’s.

“Fine,” the physician huffed. He turned on his heel and walked toward Cara.