Page 119 of Midnight Conquest

Davina pulled her into a tight embrace. Her arms wrapped around Rosselyn so fiercely it nearly stole her breath. Rosselyn buried her face in her sister’s shoulder, her own tears spilling freely, dampening the fabric between them.

“I’m so sorry,” Davina whispered, her voice cracking beneath the weight of her guilt. “For everything. I was so cruel to you and Myrna, and it was all a lie. I’m so sorry.”

Rosselyn clung to her, months of pain and misunderstanding finally melting away like frost beneath the sun. “I forgive you,” she whispered thickly. “We both do.”

When they finally pulled apart, Davina wiped her face with trembling hands, managing the faintest of smiles. Her eyes, though red-rimmed, held a glimmer of hope. “Please come back to the castle,” she said softly. “Both of you. This is your home.”

Rosselyn returned her smile through her tears, though the weight of her next words pressed heavy on her chest. “Thank you, Davina. I’ll let her know. But…I think I’ll be staying with Nicabar.”

Davina blinked, her brow knitting in surprise. “At the camp?”

Rosselyn glanced toward the man she loved, her lips curving into a soft, resolute smile. “We’re going to be married.”

Nicabar grinned, his arm sliding around her shoulders with quiet pride.

For the first time that night, Davina’s smile reached her eyes. She stepped forward, hugging Rosselyn once more, this time with no hesitation. “I’m so happy for you,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. “Truly.”

When they pulled apart, Davina turned to Nicabar, her expression growing serious again. “I’ll tell Broderick what happened,” she said, her voice laced with quiet resolve.

Nicabar inclined his head solemnly. “Sí. We will speak with Amice when we return to the camp.”

Rosselyn squeezed Davina’s hand one final time, her heart both full and heavy. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Davina offered her a small, bittersweet smile. “Nay, thank you.”

As Rosselyn and Nicabar stepped out into the forest, she felt his arm tighten around her shoulders in a protective embrace. She leaned into him, drawing comfort from his warmth as the silence wrapped around them. The weight of all that had unfolded pressed upon her chest, yet for the first time in months,she felt the faint stirrings of peace—a fragile ember glowing in the dark.

When they returned to the camp, the hush of night lent an air foreboding. The caravans loomed in the shadows, their painted panels muted beneath the pale wash of moonlight. Campfires had burned low, leaving only faint red coals flickering like watchful eyes in the gloom. Yet one figure moved among them, pacing anxiously at the fringe of the wagons.

Amice turned at their approach, her lined face drawn tight with worry. “What happened?” she asked through her tears, clutching Rosselyn’s hands in a frail, trembling grip. “Did Veronique harm anyone? She stole from my herb basket. Please, tell me you stopped her, Rosselyn.”

“We did, thanks to you,” Rosselyn replied, gathering the old woman into her arms. Amice’s slender frame shook as she wept against her, her grief as raw as an opened wound.

“She is gone,sí?” Nicabar’s voice was quiet, threaded with resignation.

Amice gave a slow, somber nod. “Oui, she has fled.”

Rosselyn’s shoulders slumped beneath the crushing weight of the moment. “We’ll find her,” she said softly, though her words felt like ash on her tongue.

Nicabar drew her closer, his presence steadying her frayed resolve. “We will,” he affirmed, though the shadow of doubt lingered in his dark eyes.

And as they stood beneath the cold gleam of the moon, the night pressed in around them, thick with unspoken fears and fading hope.

∞∞∞

Tammus let out a long, weary sigh as his horse plodded the last few steps toward his house in Aberdeen. Two days of hard travel had him home a day earlier than expected, but the journey left him aching and saddle-sore. At least the business with his niece was finally settled. Saints above, what an ordeal.

His conscience had gnawed at him every step of the return. Had he rushed Davina into a union that might not suit her? Broderick MacDougal was no ordinary man, and Tammus knew it. But then again, the way Broderick had looked at her—his gaze lingering as if she were the only soul in the room—it was plain as day the man was smitten. And Davina, for all her resistance, had been just as drawn to him.

“They’ll work things out,” he muttered for the thousandth time as he dismounted. His boots struck the cobblestones with a dull thud, and he handed the reins to a stable boy before striding toward the door. He brushed the thought aside as he stepped into the house.

The rich scent of roasted meat greeted him, and his stomach growled in response. He barely had time to drop his satchels before his housekeeper hurried toward him, her face pale, and eyes wide with tension.

“Lord Tammus,” she began, wringing her hands in a nervous flutter. “There’s been…a development.”

“A what?” He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Does it have anything to do with my business?”

“Well, nay, but—”

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