“No more questions until you at least drink some broth,” Asa declared. He pointed sternly at Alise. “You will cooperate, as I am lord of the infirmary. My word is law.” Asa turned a fierce look on Gabriel. “I’ll allow you to sit up, but you will drink this bone broth and, if I clear you, you can interrogate Wizard Alise further. Give me trouble, and I’ll put you out. You’ve seen me do it.”

Torn, Gabriel was tempted to test the healer. But his magic felt as tremulous as the rest of him. So he acceded, if ungracefully, scooting on the bed to lean against the wall, legs stretched out before him. He seemed to be wearing light, thin pants and a shirt, both in off white. They fit him perfectly, so he knew they must be Dahlia’s work. Asa gestured to someone, another unfamiliar helper, who brought a bowl of steaming broth.

Gabriel took it and obediently sipped, the rich flavor seeming to go straight to his bones. He scanned the room. Noted Asa’s tired mien. “Where is Laryn?”

Asa shook his head, expression deeply unhappy. “No more answers until the broth is gone.”

Containing his impatience, Gabriel drank, slowing when Asa chided him that if he puked it up it would only take longer to get his answers. Alise pulled up a chair, waiting with considerably more patience, though her worry was clear in her face, deep shadows under her eyes. Finally, he finished, holding up the empty bowl for Asa, who’d gone to check on Selly. Grimly, Asa nodded permission to Alise.

She told him of House Sammael’s arrival and how the confrontation had gone, culminating with Nic being collared and taken away. “She wouldn’t let us fight for her,” Alise explained, knotting her fingers in her lap. “She forbade us from it, saying that it was a battle we couldn’t win and the end result would be the same.”

But it wouldn’t have been that way if Gabriel had been awake. He could’ve successfully fought for her. “The Sammael representatives,” he said slowly, choosing his questions in case Asa cut him off again, “who were they?”

Alise hesitated before answering. “Sabrina and Sergio Sammael.”

Sergio Sammael. Heir apparent to House Sammael. Just to be clear, he verified, “Sergio was one of Nic’s suitors?”

“Yes. A real piece of work, that one. He was far too happy to see Nic collared. It was so unnecessary, as she went peacefully.”

Gabriel wrestled back the blood rage at the thought of Nic in that sadistic bastard’s hands. He wouldn’t just kill Sergio; he’d slowly dismember him, piece by piece. “Are you sure they took her to Convocation Center?”

“Of course they did,” Asa inserted, returning and putting a hand on Gabriel’s forehead. It took considerable effort for Gabriel not to growl and fend him off. The more compliant he was, the sooner he’d escape Asa’s tender care. “Why would they take her anywhere else?”

“I swear,” Jadren exclaimed in exasperation as he strode into the room on the heels of Asa’s words. “Is everyone in House Refoel an idealistic fool, or is it just you, Asa?” Jadren spared a glance for Gabriel. “You look like shit, Lord Phel, but at least you’re alive.”