Page 137 of Midnight Conquest

Nicabar gently kissed Rosselyn’s cheek as she stepped away, turning back to Broderick with a wry smile. “If Veronique does wish to return, she will have to face punishment. Perhaps it will teach our princess to better appreciate what she has here.”

The group shared a round of nods and murmurs of agreement.

“I’ll be sure tae let her know,” Broderick replied.

As the others dispersed, he discreetly drew Nicabar aside, his expression sobering. “How fares the camp?”

Nicabar shrugged, eyes shadowed briefly by concern. “Food is scarce, but we shall manage. We are halfway to Aberdeen, and the city will replenish our stores for winter, especially with the coin earned at Stewart Glen.Gracias por eso, mi hermano.”

Broderick nodded slowly, aware Nicabar spoke of the traffic he’d secured during their stay—and perhaps something deeper involving Rosselyn.

Nicabar narrowed his eyes. “You did not come just for Veronique, did you?”

Broderick sighed heavily, running a weary hand through his hair. After twelve years, Nicabar’s perceptiveness shouldn’t have been a surprise.

The young Romani folded his arms patiently, waiting.

Leaning closer, Broderick lowered his voice. “Angus used Veronique tae deliver a warning. He hunts the tribe. I’m here tae protect ye.”

His friend’s expression darkened with solemn understanding, though no shock showed on his features. “I do not know exactly what you are,mi hermano, but I have witnessed enough to know you are not…normal. You have not aged a single day since we first met, among other unexplained things. But I do not need to know your secrets. It is probably best I do not. What matters is that I trust you. Completely. You have always proven loyal to our people.”

Broderick’s throat tightened briefly at Nicabar’s earnestness. “Aye, ye ken enough of the truth. Angus is like me—powerful and unnatural. He’s beyond what ye could fight alone. So, I’ll stay as long as it takes tae keep ye safe.”

Nicabar nodded decisively, grim determination set in his jaw. “Gracias, mi hermano. Just tell me what you need.”

“Let’s take care of ye first. Food. A few deer should suffice, aye?”

A faint smile curved Nicabar’s lips. “Sí.A few deer would feed us well for a few weeks.”

Broderick patted Nicabar on the back, then slipped from the camp with quiet purpose, senses taut and vigilant. He moved swiftly, his supernatural speed a blur through the trees. Every scent, every sound magnified, but he remained focused on two priorities: procuring food for the Romani people and detecting Angus.

If Angus lurked near, Broderick would sense it.

He would not allow Angus’s darkness to touch the tribe—not while breath remained in his body.

∞∞∞

The heavy silence of the Great Hall thickened the air with unspoken tension. Only the muted sounds of dishes gently clinking as servants placed platters of roasted vegetables, slicesof venison, and freshly baked bread interrupted the quiet. Firelight danced restlessly upon the stone walls, casting shifting shadows that mirrored Davina’s anxious thoughts.

Davina sat rigidly at the long table, hands clenched tightly in her lap. Beside her at the head of the table, Ian lounged comfortably, his self-satisfied smile grating against her nerves.

Her gaze briefly flickered to Lilias, who sat across from her, shoulders tense, expression taut with unspoken strain, eyes focused on her trencher. Tammus, beside Lilias, watched the scene uneasily, eyes darting warily between mother and daughter as if trying to gauge their reactions.

The silence stretched painfully until Ian broke it, his voice smooth, irritatingly cheerful. “This feast looks splendid,” he complimented the servants, smiling broadly. “Thank you all. Your efforts are greatly appreciated.”

Davina’s stomach twisted sickly, her appetite vanishing. She kept her eyes fixed resolutely on her goblet of wine, taking a generous sip to steady her nerves.

Ian leaned back in his chair casually, eyes gleaming with self-satisfaction as he continued, “That lamb stew earlier—just what a weary traveler needed. Truly excellent.” His voice softened as he glanced at Davina. “You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble on my behalf.”

Her throat constricted, and she cleared it. “It was no trouble at all.”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” Ian said lightly, his tone bordering on playful mockery. “Giving me the finest guest room is generous indeed, though I’d rather have taken the lord’s chamber—closer to you.” He chuckled softly, watching her reaction closely. “But don’t worry. I understand my return is unsettling for you, Davina. Such adjustments will surely take time.”

Davina’s fingers curled into tense fists beneath the table. The thought of Ian occupying Broderick’s chamber filled her with revulsion. She prayed silently for Broderick’s swift return.

Tammus cleared his throat and looked pointedly at her untouched trencher. Davina picked up her fork and speared a small potato, which tasted like ash on her tongue.

Ian continued, his voice adopting a softer, almost contemplative tone. “You understand that war changes a man.” He paused, allowing the silence to linger meaningfully. “It makes you appreciate all you might have lost if fate had chosen differently.”

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