Page 109 of Midnight Conquest

Rosselyn’s tears had stopped, but her heart felt heavy as she lingered outside the vardo. The air, thick with the scent of damp earth and wood smoke, clung to her skin. Her gaze drifted to Nicabar, who smiled warmly as he spoke with Amice. He had welcomed her and her mother without hesitation, given them a place to belong. He was everything she had ever dreamed of in a man.

Still, Amice’s words from her prediction echoed in her mind. The old woman had told her that revealing her secret—that she and Davina were sisters—would save lives. But how? How could being cast out of the castle possibly lead to something so profound?

Veronique emerged from her vardo, snaring Rosselyn’s attention like a hawk spotting prey. The Romani girl’s dark eyes, glinting with contempt, locked onto Nicabar, and her lips twisted into a scowl of thinly veiled contempt. Rosselyn tensed as Veronique stalked away from him.

But as Veronique marched across the path, her gaze flicked to Rosselyn, and her lips curled into a sneer that could draw blood.

Rosselyn’s fists clenched at her sides as anger flared hot in her chest. She took a step toward the insufferable girl, every muscle coiled tight, ready to confront her, but Veronique let out a low,mocking laugh and sauntered away as if Rosselyn were beneath her notice.

“Bitch,” Rosselyn muttered under her breath, her hands trembling with the effort of holding herself back.

She exhaled through her nose and turned her gaze back to Nicabar, who was still speaking with Amice. The sight of him steadied her, and she let out a slow breath. Whatever the future held—whatever Amice’s cryptic prediction had meant—she knew one thing for sure: she had Nicabar, and with him, she could face anything.

∞∞∞

Broderick wandered through the depths of a shadowed forest, the air thick with sorrow and unease. Davina’s voice echoed faintly, fragile and distant, as if carried on a mournful wind. It was not the sweet, melodic sound he knew, but something broken, fractured.

He turned, searching for her among the trees. Black blurs darted on the edge of his vision—shadows moving with unnatural speed, slipping between branches like wraiths. He caught glimpses of her now and again, chasing the darkness as if it were prey, her figure ghostly and pale against the gloom.

Then, suddenly, there she was.

At the center of the forest, Davina knelt upon the damp earth, cradling her sweet daughter in her arms. Her head was bowed, her shoulders shaking as she rocked the child back and forth. Mother and daughter wept together, their cries a haunting melody that pierced the stillness. The shadows swirled aroundthem, closing in, tightening their grip.

Broderick reached for her, but his limbs felt heavy, as though bound by invisible chains. He tried to call her name, but his voice was swallowed by the oppressive silence.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

His eyes snapped open, his heart a thunderous drumbeat in his chest. The images from the dream clung to his mind, haunting and vivid. Davina’s sorrow, her broken heart—it twisted like a dagger in his gut. Over what, saints knew, but the pain in her eyes lingered even in the waking world.

Broderick rubbed a hand over his face, wiping away the lethargy of the day’s rest. The cave was dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight filtering through a seam in the curtain he’d secured across the stone entrance. He sat up, the furs beneath him slipping as he moved. The Hunger gnawed at his insides, piercing and insistent, a familiar ache that could not be ignored.

Early this morning, Broderick had just enough time to duck into the safety of the cave before the undead sleep took him. He had barely undressed down to his breeches before unconsciousness.

After pulling on his tunic and fastening the belt and sword at his waist, Broderick stepped out of the cave and into the cool embrace of night. The forest greeted him like an old adversary—branches twisted into skeletal shapes, mist curling low along the ground, the scent of damp moss and decay thick in the air.

He drew a steadying breath, his senses honed razor-fine as the night welcomed him home. Hunger clawed at him, deeper now, more demanding. He needed to feed. Then he would return tothe castle.

The thief had been careless, skulking in the shadows of a deserted lane near the village. Broderick made quick work of him, feeding just enough to sate the worst of the hunger before leaving the man slumped against a wall, alive but dazed.

The Romani camp was on his way, so he would check in with Amice.

The flicker of the campfire danced like a beacon in the distance, guiding him through the streets. When he arrived, he found Amice sitting by the flames, her hands busy sorting through her herbal basket of remedies, frowning in concentration. She looked up as he approached, her hard eyes softening with recognition.

“Bon soir, mon fils,” she greeted him, though her attention drifted back to her basket. “Where did I put the autumn crocus?” she muttered in French.

He scanned the camp. The usual hum of activity had quieted, and her granddaughter was nowhere in sight. “Where is Veronique?”

Amice sighed, her shoulders sagging beneath the weight of weariness. “The child’s been up to mischief again. I’m too old to keep scolding and chasing after her, yet she insists on acting like a wild thing.” She shook her head, but her expression betrayed her worry, the lines around her eyes deepened by concern.

“It troubles ye more than ye let on,” Broderick said, his gaze steady, reading the shadows in her features.

Amice hesitated, then her façade cracked, just a little. “Aye, it does. She’s too much like her mother. I fear she’ll follow the same path if she does not change.”

“She won’t,” Broderick said firmly. “I’ve been stern with her. She knows I dinnae love her the way she wishes me tae.”

Amice gave a mirthless chuckle, the sound brittle as dry leaves. “Your rejections only fuel her determination. She’s as stubborn as Monique ever was. What am I to do with her, then?”

Broderick frowned but refused to accept the comparison. “She’ll grow out of it. As soon as she finds a lad closer tae her age, ye’ll see.”

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