“Then where is he now?”
“We… daenae ken.”
The admission cracked through the air like lightning. Kieran felt something cold slide down his spine—not fear, not surprise, but the sharp, slicing confirmation of suspicion. Sebastian had known. Somehow, he had known the net was closing.
Or someone had warned him.
Michael stepped forward. “I searched for him this morn. His chambers here were empty and his belongings untouched. There was nae sign of forced departure.”
Kieran’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “So he walked out willingly.”
Michael hesitated. “Or he never reached his chambers at all.”
A hush fell. Kieran’s mind raced. Sebastian was slippery, manipulative, always three steps ahead. But disappearing before a council meeting designed to expose him?
That reeked of guilt and worse, of strategy.
Before Kieran could issue an order, the heavy chamber doors cracked open. The sound echoed horribly loud in the tense quiet, and everyone turned to stare at the newcomer.
A young man stumbled inside—a thin, trembling figure with ash-blond hair and a livery stained from hurried travel. Keiran recognized the man as Sebastian’s favorite servant, Ewan—loyal to a fault, a shadow always trailing at Sebastian’s heels.
But today, he looked half-dead with fear.
“Laird McDawson,” Ewan gasped, bowing clumsily. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, and his breath came in sharp, frantic bursts. “Please… please forgive the intrusion?—”
Kieran’s stare pinned him. “Where is Sebastian?”
The servant flinched so hard he nearly dropped to his knees. “Me Laird… somethin’ has happened.”
“Speak.” Kieran’s tone cracked like a whip in the silent room.
Ewan hesitated for a moment, uncertain in a way he had never seen the man before, as if he was contemplating whether or not he was doing the right thing.
Then, he finally said, “Yer uncle… he is gone.”
“I gathered that,” said Kieran through gritted teeth. “What happened?”
“Me Laird, he fled the estate. He left through the servants’ passage with only a horse and a small satchel. I… I was meant to go with him, but he ordered me to stay behind. He said I was nay longer useful.”
A murmur rippled through the council—one of shock, confusion, fear.
Kieran stepped closer, his boots echoing sharply on the stone. “Why would he flee? Did he say where he was goin’?”
Ewan shook his head wildly. “Nay, Me Laird. Only that he wouldnae be present for this council. He laughed and said ye would be… handlin’ it alone.”
Kieran’s eyes darkened as he stared at the man. Sebastian’s was a calculated absence, a move made knowing Kieran wouldn’t be able to tear him apart publicly without the man present to face the accusations.
Coward.
“Did he say anythin’ else?” Kieran asked.
Ewan swallowed. “Aye, Me Laird… aye. There’s more. Yer uncle, he’s done more than steal coin or… or arrange the accidents.He’s been doing these things for years, and I… I kent about some of it.”
Murmurs rose, horrified and sharp. The elders glanced amongst themselves, some leaning in closer to each other to mumble things Kieran couldn’t hear and didn’t care to. All that mattered was that he had proof and the servant’s word that Sebastian was not the man he appeared to be. Now, the council had no choice but to heed his warnings.
“I stayed quiet because I feared him, Me Laird,” said Ewan. “And because he kept me fed, clothed, paid. But the others, all the victims… I never felt right about any of it.”
Kieran stepped closer, the air tightening around him. “Then why speak now? Why risk everythin’?”
