“Isabelle?” he rasped, his voice hoarse from what she assumed was dehydration. “What are ye doing here, lass?”
“I came to see you,” Izzy said, sinking onto her knees before him. “Magnus, McRae said...he said things about you.”
“Ye shouldnae be here.”
“I had to come! I saw that confession you wrote, but I don’t believe it. I don’t believe a word of it.”
She longed to throw her arms around him, to feel his strength and reassurance, but she held herself back. He shifted uncomfortably in his stance and when he spoke, they were not the words she’d expected to hear.
“Ye should believe it, lass,” he said. “Because it’s true. It’s all true.”
Izzy recoiled. In the tent’s gloomy interior, she couldn’t read his expression, but his eyes were unblinking as they fixed on her.
“No,” she whispered. “I don’t believe you and I don’t believe a word McRae says. He’s a twisted, evil bastard.”
“Aye, he is,” Magnus agreed. “But that’s because I made him that way.”
Izzy sat back on her heels. Her chest ached, her heart beating a painful staccato in her chest. She had not expected him to agree with McRae.
“What...what are you saying?”
Magnus pressed his lips together, staring down at his bound hands as if he could see through them to the past. Silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive, as Izzy waited for him to answer.
“McRae wasnae always like this,” he began in a low voice, almost whispering. “I knew himbefore. He was kind once, generous even. He gave me a home when I had nowhere else to go. He fed me, clothed me, gave me purpose.”
Magnus took a deep breath, his gaze straying away from her and landing on the canvas walls of the tent. “But one day...we argued,” Magnus continued, his voice a hushed whisper. “It was fierce. Aye, so fierce that neither of us remembered it was just an argument.”
His gaze dropped to his hands again, fingers flexing against the coarse bindings. “I...” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat before continuing.
“I struck him so hard he fell against the barn wall.” Magnus’s voice trembled slightly, his fingers digging into his bound hands as he relived the memory. “The structure was weak from years of weathering and neglect. It collapsed and buried him.”
He fell silent for a moment. “He was crippled,” Magnus continued, his gaze returning to her but not really seeing her, his mind clearly trapped in the memory. “His body was crushed by fallen stone, but it was the injury to his head that changed him. He was never the same after that...and neither was I. I didnae lie to ye when I told ye that my mentor, Eamon, was dead. Hediddie that day. I didnae recognize the man he became.” Magnus’s eyes, watery and pained, met Izzy’s. “His mind twisted and he became someone else entirely. He blamed me for everything. And he was right to do so. Itwasmy fault. I killed Eamon McRae as surely as if I’d taken a knife to his throat.”
Izzy swallowed hard, the silence in the tent deafening. Her mind raced, trying to piece together this new information. She had come here expecting reassurances, a plan forescape, and perhaps a bit of warmth from Magnus. Instead, she was met with a confession that left her reeling.
She moved slightly, the rustle of fabric breaking the silence as she shifted to sit more comfortably on her knees. But even as she tried to digest his words, there was something in Magnus’s confession that didn’t fit.
“So...” Izzy began, her voice wavering slightly. “You’re saying that you... you made him this way?”
Magnus’s face hardened, his gaze darkening with self-loathing. “Aye,” he said stiffly. “I’m the reason for McRae’s hatred and bitterness. I’m the reason for everything he’s done since.”
“That’s why you didn’t fight back when that villager attacked you isn’t it?” Izzy said. “Because you thought you deserved it because you think you caused McRae to do what he did!” She shook her head, refusing to believe it. “No. No way. I don’t buy it. Whatever happened between you and McRae, everything he’s done since is his choice.His, Magnus. You can’t take responsibility for other people’s actions.” She fixed him with a hard gaze. “What did McRae threaten you with to make you sign that confession?”
MAGNUS STARED AT ISABELLE.Ye, he thought.He threatened me with ye. Threatened to hurt the thing that matters to me most and I would do anything to avoid that.
He strained against the ropes that bound his hands. Given more time, he might be able to snap them, but they didn’t have more time.
“It doesnae matter now,” he said softly. “What matters is that ye get to Dun Saith and find a way home. What happens to me is unimportant.”
“It’s important to me!” Isabelle snapped. “We have to find a way—”
She cut off abruptly as a sudden noise intruded on the tent. Magnus cocked his head, listening. There it was again, distant, but coming closer. It took a moment for Magnus to make out what it was.
Barking.
Isabelle gasped, eyes going wide. Then she leapt up and ran to the tent flap, throwing it open. Morning sunlight poured inside, making Magnus squint. Through the gap he could see McRae’s men rushing about, grabbing weapons and shouting. The sound of barking grew louder. And then he heard something else—the thunder of hooves.
“I don’t believe it!” Isabelle cried.
