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your name.”
    Another yank, another scream swallowed. Outside, lightning flashed once more, and thunder rocked the roof timbers.
    He warily gazed upward before his attention settled on another arrow. As he worked the next shaft free—this one was lodged in her sternum—she clenched her fists into the sheets, fighting not to twist from him. The arrowhead grated against bone as it finally gave way.
    â€œYour name,” he demanded.
    She gasped out, “Daniela.”
    â€œDaniela.” He gave a tight nod. “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”
    She choked on a hysterical laugh, sending her into a wet coughing fit. Blood bubbled from her mouth when she uttered, “Beautiful . . . kidding?”
    His expression darkened. “I only meant that you’re lovely in form, or you would be—never mind.”
    â€œYou’re . . . skeevy .”
    He gazed away, looking like he was mentally cursing himself.
    After such a long life, she was going to die of poison in the care of a crazed, skeevy vampire who couldn’t count.
    â€œMy name is Murdoch Wroth.”
    â€œI know.” He was brother to Nikolai, which meant he was one of the Wroths, four Estonian warlords famous in their time for their ruthless defense of their country. Five years ago, the Valkyrie had learned from Myst that two of the brothers had been turned to vampires. Nikolai and . . . Murdoch .
    â€œHow could you know my name?”
    She tried to shrug, but only grimaced.
    He let it drop. “Two more to go. Who were those men who did this to you?”
    â€œYou wouldn’t know them—”
    Yank. Her vision began to flicker again.
    â€œStay with me.” Had he smoothed a gloved hand over her hair? “Only one left,” he said, then added in a murmur, “Brave girl.”
    For some reason, she felt a rush of pride that he saw her as brave. She’d been weakened for so long, exiled from the very ice that made her stronger.She struggled to remain conscious, wavering in and out.
    â€œWill more of them be coming for you?” he asked.
    â€œThey always do. Sooner or later.”
    â€œWhy would they want to kill you?”
    She mumbled, “I was born.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?”
    â€œCan’t tell you . . . ’bout the Lore.”
    â€œBecause I’m a Forbearer?” This plainly infuriated him. “You think Myst won’t be telling Nikolai your secrets?”
    â€œYou think . . . they’ll be talking tonight?”
    He frowned as if she was confusing him, or more like she was throwing him. “Last arrow.”
    This one was wedged under her collarbone, refusing to come out. “Almost finished, sweet.” He pinned her to the mattress, twisting and pulling as she bit back a shriek. “Just hold on.”
    Finally, it gave way in a rush of blood. “There.” He threw it aside. “Now what do I do?”
    She lay stunned, panting raggedly. Too late. . . .
    Even with the arrows removed, too much poison remained inside her. She started convulsing from the heat, couldn’t stop.
    â€œDaniela, tell me!”
    In her two thousand years of living, she’d never been this hot. Ah, gods, thermal shock.
    Death by shattering. Just as she’d been warned as a girl. Porcelain doll. The starkest fear she’d ever known welled inside her.
    She weakly grabbed his shirt. “Shock. Put me in . . . ice bath.”
    â€œShock—what do you mean?”
    â€œÂ â€™Bout to . . . die.”

S IX
    Murdoch swooped her up so fast his wounded leg almost gave way. In a flash, he traced her to the bathroom.
    Inside, he began running a cold bath. Once he’d settled her in the large tub, he traced to a gas station, returning a few moments later with stolen bags of ice.
    As he ripped open the bags to dump their contents into the water, he muttered, “This feels