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going on at his castle. Had Deirdre sent additional Warriors to attack? Were the repairs going according to plan? Had more of Galen’s Warrior friends found their way to the castle? Had Cara and Sonya found the spell that would bind their gods?
    Too many questions and no answers. But those questions weren’t what kept him awake at night. Nay, it was his worry of Quinn in Deirdre’s dungeon. He had no idea what Deirdre was doing to his youngest brother, and that scared him as nothing else could.
    “I’m coming, Quinn. Hold on, brother. Hold on,” he whispered into the chamber.
    He had wanted to go after Quinn immediately, but cooler heads had prevailed. They needed leverage against Deirdre. Besides Lucan’s wife, Cara, there was only one thing Deirdre wanted more—the Scroll.
    The Scroll was a list of all the names of men who had housed the gods when the Celts fought the Romans. Deirdre had her own ways of discovering these men who could have the god inside them, but the Scroll would give her all the surnames instantly. It would help her to triple her Warriors in a matter of weeks instead of years. And with those Warriors, Deirdre would have control over Scotland—and the world—all too soon.
    Fallon wanted to discern whatever he could about the Scroll, but so far he had found nothing that led him to believe the Scroll was even real. So much got added to stories in the retelling that the legend of the Scroll could have been included at any time.
    He sat up when there was a soft knock on his door. Fallon rose and let his claws lengthen. He didn’t trust anyone, and he would be damned before he was caught unawares by Deirdre.
    “Who is it?” he called.
    “A servant, sir, sent by Baron MacNeil. He has sent you a message,” said the feminine voice.
    Fallon walked to the door and opened it a crack to find a young girl with auburn hair standing before him. She held out the missive, her hand shaking and her eyes downcast.
    He retracted his claws and reached for the parchment. “Thank you.”
    She dipped into a hurried curtsy and started to turn away.
    “Wait,” Fallon said. He opened the note and read it. Fallon clenched his jaw when he learned Iver had sent a missive to the king even after Fallon had told him not to.
    “Aye, milord?” Her gaze briefly met his.
    Fallon folded the parchment. He would deal with Iver later. He leaned his shoulder against the doorway and pushed the door open wider. “Tell me what you know of Lady Larena Monroe.”
    The young girl fiddled with her skirts. “She is very beautiful and kind to everyone.”
    Fallon lifted a coin and held it before her. “Is it true all the men want her?”
    “Aye, milord. She is sought after by many. Her brother is very protective.”
    Damn. He handed her the coin and lifted another. “A brother, aye? Who is he?”
    “Lord Malcolm Monroe. He’s a handsome devil. He’s as sought after as his sister.”
    Fallon narrowed his gaze as his mind raced. “Is that so? Which man is seeking Lady Larena’s favor now?”
    “Milord?” the servant asked, her brow furrowed.
    He sighed and held up another coin. “What man is in her bed?”
    The girl’s eyes grew large. “I wouldn’t know, milord. For all the gossip, there is no man I’ve heard claim that he’s had her.”
    “Interesting.” Fallon pulled out some more coins and handed them to the servant. “Thank you for the information.”
    Once the door shut, he leaned back against it. He had learned more than he expected. There might not be men boasting of having Larena, but he imagined many had shared her bed. She was, after all, a very beautiful, very alluring woman.
    And they were in the king’s castle where favors were traded for anything. It only made sense that Larena and her brother had come to the castle to gain something, as everyone did. Why the men kept quiet about their affairs with Larena was intriguing. Did they do it out of respect? Or did they fear her brother?
    It had been a long