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“You’ll die,” Gabrielle said.

Danika’s smile was resolved, but not entirely sad. “Eventually.”

“Where will you go?”

“Conlan and I had been planning to retreat to one of the Darkhavens in Denmark, where I was born. He wanted that for me, but now I think I would rather raise his son in Scotland instead, so that our child can know something of his father through the land he loved so much. Lucan has already begun making arrangements for me, so that I can go whenever I decide that I’m ready.”

“That was kind of him.”

“Very kind. I couldn’t believe it when he came to find me and give me the news, along with his pledge that my child and I would always have a direct line to him and the rest of the Order if we ever need anything. It was the day of the funeral, just hours afterward, so his burns were still extremely severe. Yet he was more concerned about my welfare.”

“Lucan was burned?” Alarm snaked into her heart. “When, and how?”

“Just three days ago, when he carried out the funeral ritual for Conlan.” Danika’s fine brows lifted. “You don’t know? No, of course, you wouldn’t. Lucan would never mention a word of his act of honor, or the damage he suffered in doing it. You see, the Breed’s funeral tradition calls for one vampire to carry the body of the fallen to be received by the elements outside,” she said, gesturing to a shadowed corner of the chapel, where a dark stairwell was located. “It’s a duty of great respect, and of sacrifice, because once topside, the vampire who attends his brethren must remain with him for eight minutes as the sun rises.”

Gabrielle frowned. “But I thought their skin couldn’t tolerate solar rays.”

“No, it can’t. They burn severely and quickly, but none so much as the vampires who are first generation. The oldest of the Breed suffer the worst, even under the briefest exposure.”

“Like Lucan,” Gabrielle said.

Danika gave a solemn nod. “For him, the eight minutes of dawn must have been beyond bearing. But he did it. For Conlan, he willingly let his flesh burn. He might even have died up there, but he would let no one else carry the burden of laying my beloved Conlan to rest.”

Gabrielle thought back to the urgent phone call that had taken Lucan out of her bed in the middle of the night. He’d never said what it was about. Never shared any of his loss with her.

Pain twisted in her stomach when she thought of what he had endured by Danika’s description. “I spoke to him—that very day, in fact. From his voice, I knew something was wrong, but he denied it. He sounded so tired, beyond exhausted. You’re telling me that he was suffering from extensive ultraviolet burns?”

“Yes, he was. Savannah told me that Gideon found him not long afterward. Lucan was blistered from head to toe. He couldn’t open his eyes for the pain and swelling, but he refused any help in getting back to his quarters so that he could heal.”

“My God,” Gabrielle gasped, astonished. “He never told me, not any of this. When I saw him later that night—just hours later—he seemed perfectly normal. Well, what I mean is, he looked and acted like nothing was wrong with him.”

“Lucan’s nearly pure bloodlines made him suffer the most, but they also helped him heal more quickly from the burns. Even then, it wasn’t easy for him; he would have required a great deal of blood to replenish his system after so much trauma. By the time he was well enough to leave the compound to hunt, he would have been practically ravenous with hunger.”

And he had been. Gabrielle understood now. The memory of him feeding from the Minion he’d killed flashed through her mind, but it had a different context now, no longer the monstrous act it had appeared on the surface, but a means of survival. Everything was taking on a different context since she’d met Lucan.

In the beginning, she would have considered the war between the Breed and their enemies to be nothing more than one evil versus another, but now she couldn’t help feeling that it was her war, too. She had a stake