He always wore such a gentle expression when in Daire’s company, but it became gentler still. He looked between her eyes and saw the gleam of unshed tears she tried to hide away with a smile, but his heart ached swiftly in his chest and he only nodded, silently saying: I know. The sadness clung to his name on her lips and he wished she only ever had reason to say it with happiness. Zevulun’s velvet-soft ears turned toward her. She broke further as she spoke and he heard every moment it tipped until it all but toppled over. A warm breath rushed out of him so quickly it stirred her dark hair.

Immediately the stallion turned his handsome face toward her, to touch her again as though he hadn’t been doing so just moments before. “They’ve looked everywhere,” he said, voice strained before he blew out an exasperated breath. “They must be moving her or…” he trailed off and swallowed, throat growing thick as he worried what soft, sweet Vervain had been through in her absence. Every day that passed was just another day he had failed her, and Zevulun’s greatest regrets in life were when he failed his loved ones.

Why did he do it so often?

“I don’t know,” he admitted softly, “but they’re looking, I promise they’re looking.”

None were searching harder than his nephew, Nephilim, who sometimes had to be argued with to keep him home resting. You’ll be no good to her if you push yourself so hard you go lame! Zevulun had overheard Castillon scolding the silver buckskin as he came upon them shouting at one another, which was not a common occurrence.

It was tearing so many lives apart to have lost her.

He thought of the pain Riesling must have felt when he lost Claret and felt sick all over again. Zevulun inhaled sharply and his blue eyes snapped away from Daire before his eyelids closed.

“We’ll find her, Daire. We have to.”