Magnus flinched, his guts twisting at the sight of the scar. “I...” he began, but words failed him.
“Ye did this to me, and what consequences have ye ever faced?” McRae bellowed. “None! Yer precious Order of the Osprey has shielded ye ever since and ye have become everything they wanted ye to become! The honorable warrior! The fierce protector! Well, now it ends! Iwillhave my justice!”
McRae crossed to the table and thrust the ledger he’d been writing in towards Magnus. Magnus squinted at it. The ink was fresh, the handwriting meticulously executed—but not in McRae’s hand. In Magnus’s. A copy so well executed that nobody would be able to tell the difference.
It was a confession. A confession that detailed every secret meeting with the outlaws, every whispered instruction, every coin that had crossed palms. A map of treachery and deceit. Except, according to this confession, it wasn’t McRae at the helm. It was Magnus.
“Sign it,” McRae demanded, his voice low and dangerous. He tossed a quill onto the table. “Sign it and confess to yer crimes.”
Magnus looked at the ledger, then back at McRae. His eyes met those of his once-mentor. “These are lies. I willnae sign anything.”
“Are ye so sure of that?” McRae’s voice was an ominous whisper. “What is yer freedom worth, Magnus? Is it worth Isabelle’s life? Sign the confession and I will see her safely to Dun Saith. Dinna sign the confession and she dies.”
“If ye harm one hair on her head—”
“No harm will come to her if ye do as I ask. Sign the confession and she leaves Dun Crogan unharmed. Dinna sign the confession and...”
He didn’t finish his sentence, letting the threat hang in the air. Magnus felt his heart pounding in his chest, a fiery anger mixing with a cold, insidious fear. Isabelle. He glanced over at the door, half expecting to see Isabelle dragged in, her eyes wide with fright. But the door remained closed.
He looked down at the ledger before him, its pages filled with lies and deceit, all crafted by the man he once called father.
What is yer freedom worth?
Nothing. His freedom, his life, was worth nothing against Isabelle’s safety.
With shaking hands, he reached out and took up the quill.
Chapter 17
Izzy stood by the arrow-slit window and stared out at the scene below. She couldn’t see much, but from the flurry of activity—the saddling of horses and the readying of some kind of carriage—she knew something was going on. Dawn was breaking on the horizon and the eastern sky was beginning to turn yellow and pink, promising a sunlit day ahead.
Where was Magnus? Was he all right? What were they doing to him?
She drew a shaky breath and tried to still the wild thumping of her heart. Everything had gone wrong. What had been the best night of her life had turned into a nightmare. Magnus had been torn from her. And Snaffles...
She swallowed thickly, fighting back tears. Oh, Snaffles. The last image she had of him slumping to the floor in the boarding house was enough to tie her stomach into knots.Please let Snaffles be all right, she prayed to any deity that might be listening.Please let Magnus be all right.
If she lost either of them she didn’t know what she’d do.
She scrubbed at her face and looked around. Mrs Dunbar and the guards had brought her to this room, provided her with hot water for washing and a bowl of warm porridge for breakfast, and then left, telling her to speak to the guard outside her room if she needed anything—a guard placed there for her own safety.
