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Rosselyn’s head snapped around, her heart hammering in her chest as her eyes swept the room. “Where is she?” she barked, fear and fury tightening her voice.

Nicabar’s expression was dark as a thundercloud as he turnedtoward the door leading to the secret passage. “She is gone,” he growled.

“Damnit!” Rosselyn hissed through gritted teeth, then bolted for the passage, Nicabar close behind. They slipped through the narrow opening, their scuffles echoing against the stone as they rushed through to the woods. But when they emerged into the open air, there was no sign of Veronique.

Nicabar swore under his breath, his hands on his hips as he scanned the tree line. The woods pressed in around them, dense and dark, shadows shifting like restless spirits beneath the skeletal boughs.

Rosselyn’s chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, the cool night air burning her lungs. “Do you think she went back to the camp?”

He shook his head, his expression troubled, brows drawn tight. “I do not know. She has never done anything like this before. Mischief,sí. But this…” His voice trailed off, and he raked a hand through his dark hair, his fingers trembling slightly. “Amice has the knowing. She’ll be able to tell us where she’s gone.”

Rosselyn’s heart sank, a cold dread pooling in her belly. She turned to Nicabar, her voice trembling. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, her eyes wide with sudden realization. “Amice’s prediction…it came true.”

Nicabar frowned. “What prediction?”

Rosselyn swallowed hard, her pulse pounding in her ears. “If I hadn’t been kicked out of the castle, we would’ve been in your caravan tonight, or I would have been here. We wouldn’t have seen Veronique sneaking out of the camp. More people than Davina could’ve died.”

“Rosselyn?” Davina’s voice called from the other side of thepassage, tight with worry. “Anything?”

Nicabar’s hand found Rosselyn’s, his warm, calloused fingers steadying hers with a gentle squeeze. With a firm grip, he led her back through the passage, the cold stone pressing close as they reentered the castle grounds. Davina stood waiting with the two guards, their eyes wide, brimming with questions.

Rosselyn shook her head grimly.

“But we will find her,” Nicabar promised, his voice dark and certain.

Anthony and Gavin’s heavy stares shifted to Davina, who gave a terse nod. “Let it go for now,” she commanded, her voice tight with barely leashed frustration. “But I want that passage guarded until we can get it sealed. Understood?”

The men gave quick nods, and as they turned to leave, Anthony glanced at his companion. “Such a shame. She was such a bonnie lass.”

Gavin nodded solemnly, their boots shuffling against the packed earth as they disappeared around the corner toward the gatehouse. The staff filed through the kitchen door, muttering in hushed voices, their faces etched with unease. The atmosphere stung with the acrid memory of smoke and fear.

Rosselyn turned to Davina. Her sister’s face was pale, her expression carved from stone—but the tight line of her lips and the way her arms crossed protectively over her chest told Rosselyn everything. She had seen that look before but never directed at her. Somewhere between anger and pain. Rosselyn’s heart clenched at the sight, dread curling in her chest like a winter chill.

“This is my fault,” Rosselyn began, her voice trembling. “Veronique must have seen me using the secret passage with Nicabar. She must’ve followed. I should have been more careful.”She swallowed hard, summoning courage that felt paper-thin. “I take full responsibility. If that means I deserve some kind of punishment, so be it.”

Davina’s lips parted slightly, the smallest flicker of compassion breaking through her mask of ice. Rosselyn held her breath, waiting for the words that would surely cut her to the bone.

But when Davina finally spoke, her voice was low, almost distant. “Why did you come here?”

The question caught Rosselyn off guard. “To stop Veronique, of course,” she answered quickly, her brow furrowing.

“I understand that,” Davina said, her voice rising slightly, the first crack in her composure. “I mean…why? After everything? After the way I treated you? After the way I treated your mither?” Her voice broke on the last word, and Rosselyn saw the raw hurt flash in her sister’s eyes. Anger, aye, but also something far deeper. A wound that had been festering for years, poisoning her from within.

Rosselyn stepped forward, closing the aching space between them. “Because I love you, Davina,” she said, her voice breaking like brittle glass. “You’re my sister. No matter what, I’ll always love you.”

Davina’s lips quivered, but she didn’t respond. She just stood there, her arms still wrapped tightly around herself, as if bracing for the blow that hadn’t come.

Rosselyn reached for her hands, clasping them gently, her chilled fingers threading through her sister’s. “You need to know the truth,” she said softly, her throat thick with fear. “My mither never seduced Parlan. She would never do something like that. As much as you might not want to hear it…Parlan forced himself on her.”

The truth suffocated the air between them, heavy and unrelenting, like the damp chill of a winter fog. Rosselyn watched as Davina’s face crumpled, her eyes closed, and she nodded, her breath shuddering from her lungs.

“She told her fiancé,” Rosselyn pressed on. “But he didn’t believe her. Said she must’ve invited Parlan’s advances. She didn’t know what to do. She was terrified. If she told Lilias, she was afraid she wouldn’t have believed her either. And then she’d have been thrown out of the castle, alone, with a wee bairn on the way. So, she lied. She said her fiancé abandoned her once he found out she was with child.”

Davina opened her mouth as if to speak, but she bit her bottom lip. Rosselyn saw the tears welling in her eyes, the way her hands trembled in her grasp.

“Once Parlan died, Mam wanted me to know the truth,” Rosselyn said, her voice gentling to a soothing murmur. “But she warned me not to say anything. I just couldn’t keep something like that a secret—not from you.”

Davina’s hands tightened around hers as the first tear slipped down her cheek. “She was scared of me,” she whispered, her voice fraying like worn thread. “All this time…she was scared of me.”