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“I only tell you what the tablets reveal and how they speak to me.” Amice closed her eyes and laid a trembling hand over the cards, as if to draw the truth from their surface.

“ Non , the message is the same. There will be loss of lives, I tell you, and even more disaster after those deaths. I do not see such things often. Death is a prediction I do not make lightly.”

A chill swept over Rosselyn’s skin. She shuddered, her heart thudding hard as she fought back the growing lump in her throat.

Amice turned over the other three tablets: an angel in the clouds blowing a trumpet as people rose from graves; a man standing in a chariot; and a smiling child sitting atop a horse beneath a radiant sun.

“Telling your secret will bring judgment upon you,” Amice said, her voice hushed. “And I sense one other person who knows this secret. As a result, you will both be cast out of your home—but it will end joyously.”

“Really?” Rosselyn leaned forward, hope lighting her eyes. The other person had to be her mother. “No one will die?”

Amice pressed her palms to the tablets once more. “I sense great sorrow, but also reconciliation, and…” The old Traveller tilted her head as if listening to a distant voice. “I am hearing…you must pull one more card and place it on the table.”

Rosselyn studied the spread and chose the card she felt drawn to, flipping it onto the velvet surface. She placed it atop the Sun: a woman seated upon a throne between two pillars—one black with the letter B, the other white with the letter J. But this card lay upside down.

“The High Priestess…reversed.” Amice’s frown deepened.

She laid her hand gently upon the card, eyes slipping shut.

“ Oui …I hear now. You will uncover deception. There is a plot of ill intentions. I cannot tell who is behind it, but because you choose to reveal your secret, it will lead you to this truth.”

Rosselyn stared at the tablets, Amice’s words echoing in her thoughts.

How could keeping a secret lead to death?

And yet, exposing it—though painful—promised not only healing, but new information.

She could imagine why she and her mother might be cast out, but the idea of truth unmasking deceit offered a strange kind of comfort.

Relief unfurled in her chest like the petals of a flower catching the sun.

“I leave the choice to you, my dear Rosselyn.” Amice patted her hand—but paused, gripping it more firmly. Her eyes drifted closed, and she sighed deeply. “Watch over your mistress.”

Rosselyn’s vision blurred. “I do try. She is so headstrong.”

“That is what has kept her alive.” Amice gave her hand a final, reassuring squeeze. “I know only what Mistress Davina’s palm has told me. Her past is filled with sorrow and loss, non ?”

Rosselyn nodded gently, the weight of everything settling across her shoulders.

“Be watchful of her, Rosselyn.” Amice searched Rosselyn’s face with concern.

“Her pain is not yet over, and she will still need you. The past still haunts your mistress.” They stared at each other for a long moment.

Rosselyn sensed Amice wanted to say more, but instead she patted Rosselyn’s hands and ushered her out of the tent.

“That is all I can say for now, young one. Mind what this Gypsy woman tells you this day.” Without a backward glance, Amice disappeared back inside the tent.

Rosselyn stared after the closed tent flap, the experience leaving her in a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. “Poor Mistress Davina.”

“What troubles you, mia dulce ?” Nicabar sauntered toward her.

Rosselyn snapped herself out of her musings. “Nothing.” She forced a smile. “Amice has given me a lot to think about.”

He brought her knuckles to his lips and caressed her skin with his breath. “Then come to my vardo where we can talk, and I can ease your mind.” The hunger in his gaze lit her soul on fire and she was happy to follow him into what was fast becoming her paradise.

∞∞∞

Davina paced the length of her chamber, her slippered feet whispering over the wooden planks.

Back and forth, back and forth. At this rate, she was starting to wear a path into the floor.

Her thoughts churned in time with her steps, and no matter how hard she tried to calm herself, the knot of tension in her chest refused to loosen.

The evening stretched ahead of her, and with it, another suitor—a man she had no desire to meet again, much less entertain for dinner.

Arthur Forbes.

The very thought of his name made her fists clench.

She paused by the window, staring out at the courtyard below.

The mountains in the distance, softened by the fading afternoon light, usually brought her a sense of peace.

Not today. Not when every step closer to the evening felt like a step deeper into a trap.

And yet, she reminded herself, progress had been made. Two more suitors were gone since Ewan, and with minimal effort on her part.

The man from yesterday, Laird Cromwell, had been easy enough to dispatch. Uncle Tammus himself had thrown him out after catching the lecherous way Cromwell’s eyes lingered on her. Broderick’s murderous glare had made her ask what the laird had been thinking, but he refused to tell her.

He simply said, “ Best ye dinnae know, Blossom .” The subtle headshake he exchanged with her uncle had spurred Tammus to relent.

Her uncle had been reluctant at first—he’d vouched for the man’s character, after all.

But after seeing Cromwell’s true colors and heeding Broderick’s recommendation, he had wasted no time tossing him out.

“I swear,” Tammus had muttered afterward, shaking his head, “he was a gentleman in every other dealing I’ve had with him. This was a side I didn’t know existed.”

The suitor before Cromwell had been no trouble at all.

A younger laird from the Lowlands, he’d taken one look at the castle, declared it “dreary,” and practically sneered at the mention of sheep.

When Tammus had pressed him about the business, the man had grumbled something about not wanting to “play shepherd” and declined the match altogether .

So far, so good. Three suitors gone, and neither she nor Broderick had needed to intervene much. But Davina could tell her uncle was growing impatient—and desperate. His temper had been shorter than usual, and though he hadn’t said as much, she knew he was running out of options.

Her pacing resumed, her steps quickening as frustration built anew.

That might’ve been a good sign for her, save for the part where Tammus was getting desperate—and Forbes was a perfect example.

He wasn’t someone who could easily be scared off or dismissed.

He was exactly the kind of man her uncle would favor.

And that made him dangerous.

A scuffle on the balcony pulled her from her spiraling thoughts. She froze, turning toward the open doors just as Broderick stepped inside, his movements as smooth and silent as a cat.

“You’ve got to stop doing that,” she said, more startled than she cared to admit.

He cocked an eyebrow. “And ye’ve got tae stop pacin’. I heard ye all th’ way from the courtyard.”

“Doubtful.” She folded her arms, her brow furrowing. “How in the world did you get up here?”

He shrugged, as though scaling the side of a castle was no more difficult than opening a door. “I’ve my ways.”

“Of course you do,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Aye,” he said, his grin widening. “But ye’ve yet tae throw me out, so I must be doin’ somethin’ right.”

Despite herself, Davina felt her lips twitch. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Ye mean the way ye tempt me just by standin’ there?” He inhaled deep, his gaze sweeping over her like a velvet caress.

“You’re incorrigible, too.” She suppressed a smile, crossing the room to avoid his intensity.

He tilted his head, expression softening. “What’s amiss, Blossom? I ken ye’re no’ pacin’ for nothin’.”

She hesitated, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her again. “It’s Arthur Forbes,” she said finally. “He’s the next suitor.”

Broderick’s smile vanished. “Forbes?”

“Aye.” She resumed pacing. “He’s exactly the kind of man my uncle would favor, especially since they’re old friends. A clan chief. Respected. Wealthy. But I’ve heard things. Things that make my stomach turn.”

Broderick stepped closer, the warmth in his gaze replaced by cold precision. “What kind o’ things?”

“From the staff at my uncle’s household during past visits,” she said, her voice tight.

“At the time, I paid them no mind. Why should I? But I never liked the man, and when Uncle announced who was next, I was quick to tell him. They say he has a temper. A cruel one.” She glanced at him, her hands twisting in front of her.

“I told Uncle Tammus this. Do you know what he said? ‘You could use a bit of discipline.’ Can you believe that?”

The words spilled out before she could stop them, the memory of Tammus’s dismissive tone reigniting her anger.

“As if I were some unruly child needing correction. As if I hadn’t already endured enough of that in my first marriage.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and she stopped pacing, turning to face him. Broderick’s expression darkened, jaw clenched tight. But it was his eyes that caught her breath—intense, focused, as if he saw every shadow she tried to hide.

“Ye told him this?” he growled.

“Aye,” she said, her voice trembling. “I told him everything I knew about Forbes. About the way he leered at me in the past, even when I was a younger girl. Disgusting.”

Broderick’s brow darkened. “What did he say?”

Davina gritted her teeth against the tears threatening to spill over her lashes. “That every man is going to leer at a handsome woman like me. He even said I should be lucky for the attention, and how else were we supposed to produce heirs?”

“Th’ filthy…” Broderick’s jaw flexed, the muscle twitching.

For a moment, silence yawned between them. Agitation carved into every taut line of his body as he raked a hand through his long hair, as though wrestling with the need to act. And yet, something about his barely contained rage on her behalf softened something deep within her.

“Broderick,” she said, her tone gentler now, “I may have to incite his wrath to—”

“Och!” His gaze locked with hers—fierce, unyielding, dangerous. “If that man so much as lays a finger on ye, I’ll break it. And every other bone in his bleedin’ body.”

The raw protectiveness in his voice sent a strange warmth spiraling through her chest. She shook her head, chasing off the fluttering emotion before it rooted too deep.

“You can’t do that. I’m just…exposing him,” she said firmly. “Ian did far worse to me. If Forbes shows his true colors tonight, mayhap my uncle will reconsider.”

“Absolutely no’.” Broderick’s scowl deepened and the deadly intent in his quietly spoken words sent a chill through her.

She lifted her chin. “I’ll not sit back and let him woo me under false pretenses. If he’s as vile as I suspect, I’ll make sure Tammus sees it.”

“Davina,” he warned. “I am no’ lettin’ ye provoke him intae striking ye.”

“I might have to. My uncle is not going to believe you can hear the thoughts of others. In fact, exposing that might jeopardize what we’re doing if does believe it. I don’t think Uncle Tammus will appreciate knowing you may have poked around inside his head, too.”

His fists clenched at his sides. Anger radiated off him like heat from a forge—but beneath it simmered something unexpected. Something tender. Something she hadn’t anticipated.

All her life, Davina had abhorred the idea of needing a man.

Though her uncle and father often spoke of protection, all she’d ever known from men was possession and pain.

Who would protect her from the very ones meant to guard her?

Not even her own home had been safe. Living these past several months without an overlord had been liberating.

She ignored the legalities because freedom tasted far sweeter than permission.

But as Broderick paced before her, lost in thought, the flex of his muscles taut with barely leashed fury—on her behalf—a slow, unfamiliar heat unfurled in her chest. He didn’t have to care. He didn’t have to burn with anger over her plight. But he did.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything. Even if we have just one night together, and I never see you again, I want you to know how much your opinion of me matters.”

He paused, the anger in his face softening. “Och, Blossom.” He sauntered toward her. “There’s no need tae thank me,” he whispered, his voice deep and as smooth as silk.

A knock interrupted them.

Davina turned toward the door, her stomach sinking.

“Sweetling?” her mother called from the other side. “Laird Forbes has just arrived.”

She glanced back, but Broderick was gone.

Yet his words caressed her mind like a vow whispered in the dark. “ Nay worry about Forbes, Blossom. I willnae let him touch a hair on that bonnie head o’ yers. ”

A smile tugged at her lips despite the dread in her belly. She straightened her spine, squared her shoulders, and opened the door to join her mother.

Let the evening come. She was ready with Broderick at her side.