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The warden’s mouth opens again, wordlessly.

Kylian steps closer, and the old man’s back hits the edge of the registry desk.

“You will open every cell,” Kylian says. “You will bring every ledger to the castle before sunset, you will surrender every key, seal, chain, auction tag, and record in this yard, and if even one name is missing when Eagan reviews them, I will assume you sold that person into a hole so deep you thought I would not find it.”

The warden’s breath catches.

Kylian leans in slightly. “I will find it.”

The old man nods so fast his chin nearly touches his chest. “Yes, my king.”

“And if a single guard, buyer, broker, clerk, or debt holder refuses this order, you will send them to me,” Kylian continues, his tone unchanged, his face unreadable. “I have spent the last ten years listening to men explain why cruelty is necessary, and I find I have no patience left for it today.”

The warden fumbles with the ring of keys at his belt, his hands shaking so badly that the metal clatters against itself, and when he drops the keys once, Eagan bends, picks them up, and places them back in his palm.

“Do not drop them again,” Eagan warns.

The warden hurries to the nearest cell.

The first lock opens.

Then the next.

For a few moments, no one inside moves, as if the open doors are a trick, and the old man on the crate looks at me with eyes too tired to trust freedom, even when it stands in front of him.

“You can come out,” I say, softening my voice. “No one is bidding on you tomorrow.”

A woman begins to sob, and the little girl who had been staring at the floor lifts her head for the first time.

The two boys stand slowly, one holding the other’s sleeve, while the injured man with the bandaged leg grips the wall and pulls himself upright.

The old man on the crate tries to stand and nearly falls. I move toward him, but Kylian is closer and reaches him first, offering one hand without making a show of it.

The old man stares at the hand of the Vampire King as though he expects teeth behind the gesture, then takes it with trembling fingers.

Kylian helps him stand.

The warden keeps opening cells, moving faster now, his face shiny with sweat, his cane tucked under one arm while his shaking hands work key after key into old locks.

People step into the yard slowly, and Eagan begins directing them toward the outer yard, telling one of the castle guards who came with Kylian to fetch food, blankets, and wagons. Kylian speaks quietly to two of his men about temporary housing, medical checks, and transport to the farm, which seems to be becoming communal, making me worry how Claudia will take newcomers.

After ensuring every cell is emptied, I turn back to Kylian, knowing the scolding I will receive for sneaking off when the warden mutters under his breath. “A queen from a cage,” he says. “The world truly has gone mad.” The words are not loud, but my hearing has sharpened enough since the mark that I catch them anyway.

My footsteps halt, and Kylian definitely didn’t miss his words because the bond goes dark and hot in an instant.

I turn toward the warden slowly, and he realizes his mistake. He steps back, his cane slipping from under his arm and striking the ground with a crack that echoes across the yard.

“My queen,” he says quickly, lifting both hands. “I meant nothing by it.”

I walk toward him, and every step I take seems to pull the air tighter around us.

“You meant exactly what you said.”

His eyes flick to Kylian, begging silently for the king to intervene.

Kylian doesn’t move. He only watches me, and through the bond, I feel no warning from him, just a quiet fury that waits for my decision.

“I served the market for ten years,” he says, going on the defensive. “I did what the Crown asked.”