“Because ye are obviously in need of money, I will let ye go this time. If any of me men catch ye around these parts again, I willnae be as kind.”
“Me Laird?—”
“Get him out of me sight.”
The guards came closer and reached for Heron’s hands as Jack turned around, the castle back in his view. He took a few steps forward but stopped when Heron cried out again.
“Wait. ‘Tis about yer daughter!” His voice cracked on the last word.
Jack froze mid-stride and swallowed. The air seemed to grow colder, and he cleared his throat. Slowly, he turned back to Heron.
“What did ye say?”
“Yer wee lass. Stella,” Heron said. He wet his lips as if the name were dust. “That is her name, is it nae?” He glanced toward the trees and then back at Jack. “I told ye, me Laird. I am nae lying.”
A brief silence passed between them, punctuated only by the evening wind.
“Troy, fetch the pouch from me study,” Jack instructed, breaking the silence.
“Me Laird—” Troy started, the concern in his voice evident.
“I am in nay mood to argue,” Jack cut in.
Troy started to speak again, but then closed his mouth. He nodded once and ran as fast as he could into the castle.
Jack stared hard at Heron. “If I find out that yer tale is false, I’ll hunt ye meself. Ye’ll beg for death before I am done with ye,” he threatened, splaying his hands so the man could see them and fear them.
“Aye, aye. Fair enough.” Heron bobbed his head and curled his fingers as if the coin had already warmed them.
Troy returned with a leather pouch and pressed it into Jack’s palm. The weight settled against his cold skin as he turned to Heron once again.
“Now, tell me. Who sent the intruder?” Jack asked. He loosened the string a little with his thumb and held the man’s eyes.
“It’s someone ye ken well,” Heron began. Then, he leaned in until the guards retreated a little. “Someone who wants nothing but to see ye dead.”
“Who?”
Heron opened his mouth to speak, but an arrow split the air at that exact moment. It whizzed past Jack’s ear and plunged clean through Heron’s throat. A gurgle rose and died. Heron dropped to his knees and clawed at the shaft as if to pull it out.
“Christ!” Troy shouted, shoving a guard behind a cart and pulling his own blade free in the same breath.
Jack spun toward the treeline and saw a cloaked rider burst out of the shadows. He made eye contact with Jack for the briefest second before whipping back into the woods and riding into the darkness.
Jack balled his fists and bolted after him. His boots dug into the ground and kicked up sand as he ran. He sprinted across the outer steps and cut across the yard’s edge to steal the angle.
The rider hit the bend and cast a glance back. Jack dove into the trees, the sand underfoot urging him forward, even though a part of him knew this was a losing battle. A branch caught his sleeve, and he tore it free with a jerk.
Another arrow hissed wide from the rider, and Jack ducked just in time. The arrow’s sharp point slammed into the tree behind him and remained buried there.
Jack ran until his lungs burned, and only when the horse’s hoofbeats faded into the dark did he stop running. He lookedaround the woods for a few more minutes, hoping to find something. A clue, some link to whoever had been on that horse.
He found nothing.
The gate was almost shut when he ran back in, gripping his arm where a tree branch had torn at it. Heron still lay flat with his eyes open to the whites. The coin pouch had spilled, and the silver had scattered in a half-circle at Jack’s feet.
“Take the coin, Troy,” Jack ordered.
Then, he looked at the shaft in the dead man’s throat and saw the narrow head and the neat trim of the feather.
