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The cold dampness of the ruined keep clung to Broderick’s skin as he pushed aside a curtain of ivy, stepping out into the chilling night air.

Silence enveloped the forest around him, broken only by the whispering leaves and the distant, mournful call of an owl.

He rolled his shoulders to ease the stiffness that had settled into his muscles after being forced into the torpor of daylight sleep.

Broderick had failed to reach the Romani people before dawn, forced instead to seek sanctuary within the crumbling ruin to escape the lethal embrace of sunlight. He had barely stumbled into the shelter before collapsing, utterly vulnerable to the world’s dangers.

Yet knowing Angus also had to sleep during the day brought him grim comfort. For those precious few hours, at least, the Travellers were safe from the Vamsyrian’s cruel grasp.

Unless Angus had already found them.

Broderick shoved that dread aside, clinging instead to a thin strand of hope born from Veronique’s ignorance.

Her vanity and self-absorption were, for once, a blessing.

She had fled long before the caravan had set their route, paying little heed to anything beyond her own selfish desires.

If she knew nothing of their journey, Angus would remain equally blind.

His jaw clenched tightly as the Hunger twisted within him, a primal ache that relentlessly demanded attention.

Days without proper feeding had taken their toll, evident in the heaviness of his limbs and the dull throb behind his temples.

Yet he had no time to seek a suitable prey who would satisfy his moral conscience.

Instead, he turned reluctantly to the forest.

A roe deer soon appeared among the trees, innocently grazing in moonlit tranquility.

Broderick lunged forward, a blur too swift for escape, and quickly subdued the animal.

His fangs pierced the creature’s flesh, its warmth filling his mouth, dulling the painful hunger.

He drank only enough to regain strength and ease the Hunger, releasing the deer to stumble dazedly back into the shadows.

Wiping the lingering traces of blood from his lips with the back of his hand, Broderick refocused his determination and set back upon the road.

Hours passed swiftly as Broderick traversed the dense woodland beside the worn road leading toward Aberdeen, his heightened senses alert for danger and any sign of the Romani caravan.

The first trace of reassurance came as wood smoke reached him on the night breeze, followed closely by the warm, familiar timbre of Nicabar’s laughter.

Relief surged through him, slowing his pace as hope sparked anew.

Laughter.

They were alive.

Ahead, the wagons formed a protective circle around a clearing, the warm glow of campfires flickering invitingly against the night. Horses grazed nearby, their breath misting gently in the cool air, while children’s laughter echoed softly, a comforting music amidst the stillness.

Broderick stepped carefully into the camp, his strides measured yet confident.

Almost immediately, Nicabar approached, his familiar grin widening as he clasped Broderick’s shoulder warmly.

“Broderick! And here I believed you were hopelessly bewitched by a certain lady of Stewart Glen, mi hermano . To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Before Broderick could reply, Rosselyn hurried forward, her eyes wide and worried. “Is Davina well? Did something happen? You aren’t thinking of returning to the caravan, are you?”

“Nay, nay,” Broderick reassured swiftly, offering a gentle smile. “Davina is safe. All is well at the castle.”

Rosselyn visibly relaxed, though a hint of anxiety lingered. “Then why have you come?”

Broderick hesitated briefly, his tension only partially easing as he surveyed the peaceful, untouched camp. He had expected bloodshed or confrontation—not this serene scene.

He forced a casual tone. “Veronique finally appeared at Stewart Glen, though she’s worse for wear—tired, hungry, an’ in need of attention. While she recovers, I offered tae see if the tribe might still accept her return. ”

Rosselyn frowned slightly but nodded thoughtfully. “That decision isn’t mine to make, but I’ll let Amice know she’s safe. She’s been deeply worried.”

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 fi rst 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, slices of 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.”

He reached across the table, placing his hand gently over Davina’s.

Her breath snagged in her throat, heart faltering as she curled her fist around her fork.