He found himself reluctant to reveal any more. If he told anyone of Isabelle’s origins it would only put her in danger. Yet, if he couldn’t trust Emeric with the truth, who could he trust? He took a deep breath and began to speak, keeping his voice low so nobody would overhear. He told Emeric everything, of how he’d been tracking the outlaws in the Dragon’s Back, of how he’d met Irene MacAskill, of what she’d said to him, and then of how he’d bumped into Isabelle and Snaffles.
Emeric listened in silence, but as Magnus’s tale unfolded, his expression grew increasingly troubled. Finally, Magnus fell silent, glad to have gotten it off his chest at last.
Emeric glanced towards the door through which Isabelle had gone. “I knew it,” he muttered, half to himself. “As soon as I heard her speak, I knew there was something different about her. Her mannerisms, the way she talked. But a time-traveler? Here? What is Irene MacAskill up to this time?”
“Yer guess is as good as mine,” Magnus said.
“Magnus,” Emeric began, his voice low with warning. “If Irene and the Fae are involved, then this is bigger than we thought. It’s bigger than either of us.”
“Ye think I dinna know that?” Magnus shot back, frustration gnawing at his edges. He sighed, running a hand through his hair again. “God help me, Emeric. I’m trying to keep her safe. But every decision I make... It feels like I’m navigating a bloody battlefield.”
Emeric’s expression softened. “That’s because ye are. It’s not just yer life at stake anymore.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table before him. “Give up this foolish quest, Magnus. Give it up before it consumes ye, before it swallows Isabelle up as well.”
Magnus stared at his friend. Part of him longed to do what Emeric said. Part of him longed to leave this place, to ride back to Dun Saith and turn this all over to the Order of the Osprey and let his commanders decide what to do next. But he couldn’t, no matter how much he wanted to. The weight of responsibility hung around his neck like an iron collar.
Choices and balance are everything, Irene MacAskill had told him.
The Lord forgave ye a long time ago. Now ye need to find a way to do the same, Abbot Oswin had said.
But his path had been chosen for him long ago, on the day that he’d done what he did and everything changed. And forgiveness? There was only one way he knew to earn that.
Yet Isabelle did not need to be swallowed by his darkness. He’d promised to keep her safe. He’d promised to see her safely home.
“Take Isabelle with ye,” Magnus said suddenly. “Take her back to Dun Saith and help her find a way home. It’s what I promised her.”
Emeric frowned. “Ye canbothcome to Dun Saith—”
“I canna come with ye. I have to see this through.”
“But—”
“Please!” Magnus interrupted, his voice desperate. “Take her to Dun Saith. The Order will protect her. Promise me ye’ll keep her safe.”
Emeric watched him for a long moment, his gaze filled with understanding. He nodded finally, offering a small smile that held more sorrow than joy. “I promise,” he said solemnly, reaching across the table to grip Magnus’s hand tightly in his own.
Magnus nodded, a weight lifting off his shoulders. He knew that Isabelle would be in good hands with Emeric and the Order—away from him, away from danger.
The thought of being parted from her was like being punched in the gut. It hurt far more than his bruised ribs or split lip. He’d not had the chance to speak to her since she’d kissed him this afternoon—kissed him! All the way here he’d felt her presence burning against him like a candle flame, setting his senses on fire. The fact that he’d been able to do nothing about it with Sean MacTavish in attendance had almost driven him mad.
But it was better this way. Better that she go with Emeric. Better that she was away from him, where she could be safe. Better that she go home, get on with her life and forget him. Better for everyone.
Except him.
“And when were you planning on telling me this?” said a voice.
Magnus turned in his seat and saw that Isabelle was standing in the doorway. Her arms were crossed and her eyes flashed with anger. With a sinking feeling, he realized she’d overheard his conversation with Emeric.
“Were you going to tell me at all?” she snapped. “Or were you just planning on sending me packing like a piece of luggage?”
He climbed to his feet. “Isabelle, listen—”
“No, I don’t think I will,” she snapped. “I’ve heard plenty. I’m going to check on Snaffles.”
She spun and pushed through the boarding house’s back door, slamming it behind her.
