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“But if I become a Vamsyrian, I can have both you and Cailin in my life,” she pressed, desperation lacing her tone. “And I would have the power to defend myself and Cailin if your brother Angus returns to finish what he started. Why are you—”

Evangeline gasped. “Angus is your brother?”

Broderick’s shoulders sagged beneath the weight of grim truth. “Aye,” he admitted, voice raw. “My brother he is.”

Her eyes brightened with realization. “The prophecy…” she whispered, more to herself than to them.

Broderick’s brow furrowed. “The what?”

Evangeline stepped closer, urgency knitting her features tight as she caught his hands in hers. “Why would you sacrifice your love for this woman, knowing you’ll never see her again?” Her gaze searched his, fierce and imploring. “More to the point, Broderick, do you truly believe you are unworthy of her love?”

His head bowed beneath the weight of his own guilt. Voice low, he confessed, “She doesnae deserve me…nor the darkness I’ve dragged into her life, or her wee bairn.” His throat worked around the words. “So, nay. I am not worthy.”

Evangeline cupped his cheek, her touch gentle but firm. “She loves you of her own free will, Broderick. Why would you deny her that?”

Broderick opened his mouth to answer.

But Evangeline cut him off, her eyes narrowing shrewdly. “Guilt. Aye?”

His jaw clenched, muscles ticking beneath the strain. “Aye,” he admitted at last, his voice low and rough. “And for good cause. Neither ye nor Davina would’ve been caught in this cursed feud had I no’ been blinded by revenge.”

“To be fair, Rick,” Evangeline replied with a small, wry smile, “I did not see it either. Nor did Maxwell, nor Donnell. This was a secret Hamish carried to his grave. You cannot blame yourself for what none of us knew.”

Uncomfortable beneath the weight of her piercing gaze, Broderick shifted his stance. “This is all well and cathartic, lass, but what does this have tae do with Davina and the cure?”

“Just one more point,” Evangeline said, holding up a finger. “Remember that both Davina and I are grown women, capable of our own choices. Angus was already immortal when he seduced me, using the Vamsyrian power of compulsion to sway my heart—but I, too, bear responsibility. I let my loneliness consume me rather than confiding my fears in you.” She glanced at Davina, her expression softening. “And Davina, here, she knows her own mind. So…can you, Broderick, find it in your heart to forgive yourself? To release this guilt that’s chained you, so you might heal?” Evangeline leaned forward, her gaze bright with expectation.

Broderick stiffened, her words cutting straight to the marrow. He hadn’t known Angus had compelled Evangeline. There was so much he hadn’t known. Realization settled over him like a heavy cloak, and with it, a fragile thread of understanding.

He turned his gaze to Davina. His heart ached to be with her, to cherish every moment of her mortal life. “Aye,” he said at last, rough but resolute. “I can do that. But I willnae let Davina choose immortality and damn her soul.”

Evangeline’s face brightened. She clapped her hands together with a spark of delight. “Good! Because I have glorious news.”

She drew closer to Broderick and Davina, leaning in, and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “There is a prophecy—a prophecy of redemption for your kind. It says, ‘The first sign will be the sacrifice of a troubled heart. This sacrificewill spawn the forgiveness needed to release this heart trapped by guilt and heal.’ That is what has just happened.”

Broderick scoffed. “That’s bleedin’ ridiculous. That could speak tae any similar circumstance—”

“I know.” Evangeline held up her hand. “But there’s more. It speaks of two brothers who are at war. You and Angus…you both are part of this prophecy.” Her eyes gleamed. “And because of this, you are permitted to accompany Davina. But that is all I can say for now.”

Relief surged through Broderick’s chest, lightening the weight that had shackled his heart. Although he didn’t believe in any of this prophecy business, the fact that he and Davina wouldn’t be separated was better than he was expecting. Davina, radiant even in her exhaustion, sighed and leaned toward him, her own smile blooming, fragile but full of hope.

The shuffle at the back of the room drew Broderick’s attention. The two guards exchanged uneasy glances before slipping from the small room and returning to the Council Chamber.

Evangeline gave Davina’s hand a gentle, reassuring pat. “Last chance, child. Immortality or the cure?”

“If Broderick and I can be together, then the cure,” Davina managed a brave smile, though Broderick could feel the tremor of pain beneath it, thrumming through her hand. He lifted her in his arms, and she rested her head against his shoulder with a sigh.

“Come with me, then.” Evangeline rapped on the door through which she had first entered—two knocks, a pause, then three quick taps. The coded rhythm echoed in the hushed chamber. Moments later, the bolt slid back with a heavy metallic scrape, and the door creaked open.

Evangeline stepped through first, beckoning for Broderick to follow. He carried Davina close to his chest. The passage beyond was narrow and shadows clung to the stone, broken only by the flickering of sparse torches lining the way.

A woman in simple monastic garb, her face etched with concern, emerged from the gloom, and bolted the door behind them. She turned to Evangeline, confusion knitting her brow. “Two, Sister Evangeline? How are there two?”

Evangeline shook her finger over her shoulder. “I will explain later, Sister Mariota. We must hurry.”

Broderick quickened his pace, boots striking echoes from the stone floor as the two women led them deeper into the passageway.

At last, the narrow corridor gave way to a small antechamber. A heavy wooden door, reinforced with iron bands, loomed at the opposite side, its surface catching the muted torchlight.