Page 136 of Midnight Conquest

Tammus winced visibly, guilt deepening. “Give him a chance, Davina. Perhaps he truly is changed.”

“You’re a fool to believe so,” Davina spat bitterly. “Either way, I’m still off your hands.”

“Now, that’s not fair, lass.”

Davina laughed. “Don’t you dare talk to me about fair.”

He frowned but placed a heavy, comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’ll stay tonight. On the morrow, I must depart. But if he means harm to you or Cailin, I’ll act swiftly. I promise.” He turned toward the house, resolve firm in his posture. “Just give him one chance.”

Davina stood motionless in the courtyard, heart hammering painfully against her ribs. Ian’s words. The flicker of cruelty haunting her thoughts. Her only consolation was Broderick was bound to return. Hehadto return.

“Bloody hell,” she breathed softly.

Her gaze flickered anxiously toward the keep’s entrance, and she flexed her jaw so hard, pain shot across her scalp. She could only protect herself and Cailin by keeping distance between them and Ian.

Please, Broderick. Come home.

∞∞∞

The cold dampness of the ruined keep clung to Broderick’s skin as he pushed aside a curtain of ivy, stepping out into the chilling night air. Silence enveloped the forest around him, broken only by the whispering leaves and the distant, mournful call of an owl. He rolled his shoulders to ease the stiffness that had settled into his muscles after being forced into the torpor of daylight sleep.

Broderick had failed to reach the Romani people before dawn, forced instead to seek sanctuary within the crumbling ruin to escape the lethal embrace of sunlight. He had barely stumbled into the shelter before collapsing, utterly vulnerable to theworld’s dangers.

Yet knowing Angus also had to sleep during the day brought him grim comfort. For those precious few hours, at least, the Travellers were safe from the Vamsyrian’s cruel grasp.

Unless Angus had already found them.

Broderick shoved that dread aside, clinging instead to a thin strand of hope born from Veronique’s ignorance. Her vanity and self-absorption were, for once, a blessing. She had fled long before the caravan had set their route, paying little heed to anything beyond her own selfish desires. If she knew nothing of their journey, Angus would remain equally blind.

His jaw clenched tightly as the Hunger twisted within him, a primal ache that relentlessly demanded attention. Days without proper feeding had taken their toll, evident in the heaviness of his limbs and the dull throb behind his temples. Yet he had no time to seek a suitable prey who would satisfy his moral conscience.

Instead, he turned reluctantly to the forest.

A roe deer soon appeared among the trees, innocently grazing in moonlit tranquility. Broderick lunged forward, a blur too swift for escape, and quickly subdued the animal. His fangs pierced the creature’s flesh, its warmth filling his mouth, dulling the painful hunger. He drank only enough to regain strength and ease the Hunger, releasing the deer to stumble dazedly back into the shadows.

Wiping the lingering traces of blood from his lips with the back of his hand, Broderick refocused his determination and set back upon the road.

Hours passed swiftly as Broderick traversed the dense woodland beside the worn road leading toward Aberdeen, his heightened senses alert for danger and any sign of the Romanicaravan. The first trace of reassurance came as wood smoke reached him on the night breeze, followed closely by the warm, familiar timbre of Nicabar’s laughter. Relief surged through him, slowing his pace as hope sparked anew.

Laughter.

They were alive.

Ahead, the wagons formed a protective circle around a clearing, the warm glow of campfires flickering invitingly against the night. Horses grazed nearby, their breath misting gently in the cool air, while children’s laughter echoed softly, a comforting music amidst the stillness.

Broderick stepped carefully into the camp, his strides measured yet confident. Almost immediately, Nicabar approached, his familiar grin widening as he clasped Broderick’s shoulder warmly. “Broderick! And here I believed you were hopelessly bewitched by a certain lady of Stewart Glen,mi hermano. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Before Broderick could reply, Rosselyn hurried forward, her eyes wide and worried. “Is Davina well? Did something happen? You aren’t thinking of returning to the caravan, are you?”

“Nay, nay,” Broderick reassured swiftly, offering a gentle smile. “Davina is safe. All is well at the castle.”

Rosselyn visibly relaxed, though a hint of anxiety lingered. “Then why have you come?”

Broderick hesitated briefly, his tension only partially easing as he surveyed the peaceful, untouched camp. He had expected bloodshed or confrontation—not this serene scene.

He forced a casual tone. “Veronique finally appeared at Stewart Glen, though she’s worse for wear—tired, hungry, an’ in need of attention. While she recovers, I offered tae see if the tribe might still accept her return.”

Rosselyn frowned slightly but nodded thoughtfully. “That decision isn’t mine to make, but I’ll let Amice know she’s safe. She’s been deeply worried.”

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