Dante nodded to one of his men, who ran to turn on the boilers.

I led Vesper into the bay and tied him loosely to the brass cross-ties.

He stood shivering, his head hanging low.

I knelt by his hind leg.

The swelling was worse now, crawling up past his hock like a dark balloon.

The skin was tight, hairless in patches, and oozing a thin, clear fluid.

“I need a clean bucket, iodine, and a scalpel,” I said, my voice echoing in the tiled bay.

“Get her whatever she wants,” Dante told his guard.

The guard ran off to the medical room.

Dante stood at the edge of the wash bay, his arms crossed over his chest.

He watched me with an intensity that made the hairs on my arms stand up.

“You handle him well,” Dante said quietly.

“He’s just scared,” I replied, gently touching the outer edge of the swelling.

Vesper flinched, a low grunt escaping his throat.

“He’s waiting for the pain to start again,” I whispered.

I knew that exact state of mind.