Rose, however, had no difficulty believing it. The man expressed little love for the United Kingdom, and she could imagine him rationalizing away his treason. And it made the pleas to his dead wife that Freya had overheard all the more stark. What had Sigurd done to his stepson? And Thorfinn ... how had he endured discovering that the villain was once again someone whom he should have been able to trust implicitly? Sorrow threatened to bubble up and drown Rose, so she shoved it down and forced herself to concentrate on facts.
Astrid sank to the ground, her hand fisted over the letter. Rose quickly snatched it back in case it was all a ploy to destroy evidence. But Astrid didn’t look like she was acting. She seemed honestly stricken. Rose knew how to fake a tear or two herself, but Astrid looked ... gutted. And Rose hoped the woman was truly innocent.
“I killed him. I killed Reggie. It’s all my fault. I should never have told Uncle.”
“If you truly know nothing of the spying, then you’re not to blame,” Rose said frankly. Under other circumstances, she would have gentled her voice, but she didn’t have the ability right now. Nothing about Rose was soft. She was hard, fierce, steely—but not brittle. Brittle meant that she could break under her fear, and panic wouldn’t save Thorfinn.
“Uncle Sigurd introduced me to some of the bird-watchers. I—I never stopped to think. They seemed truly interested in wildlife—like all my clients. Oh lord, were theyallspies?” Astrid frantically rubbed her forehead.
“Doubtful,” Rose said shortly. “That’s why it was such a good ruse.”
Suddenly, Astrid’s shaking fingers stopped their mad dance as she glanced up at Rose, her green eyes horrified. “Freya said her father kept apologizing to hermother! Do you think he did something to Sinclair? Sinclair must have been following him! Why else would he leave the letter with Freya?”
“Exactly.” Rose snapped out the word as defensive rage rushed through her. She latched on to it rather than the piercing, debilitating agony.
The door creaked open, and Myrtle stopped midstride on the threshold. Her eyes flicked from Rose to the gun to Astrid kneeling on the floor and then back to Rose again.
“Sosheis the spy,” Myrtle—whose mind always worked faster than anyone else’s—said.
“That has not been proved conclusively either way.” Rose handed Reggie’s letter over Astrid’s head to Myrtle.
“I amnota spy!” Astrid cried.
“What’s going on?” Freya’s voice sounded from the hallway.
“Can anyone get a blasted bit of sleep around here?” a random male guest bellowed, his muffled voice sounding harried.
The group hurried inside with Percy and Young Thomas taking up the rear. They stopped stock still when they spotted Rose.
“Good lord, Rose Petal, what mess have you gotten into this time?” Percy asked.
“Is that agun?” Freya asked.
“Aye,” Young Thomas said as he quietly shut the door. Clearly, Rose had won the loyalty of at least one islander.
“But why is Rose pointing it at Astrid?” Freya demanded frantically.
“Freya, you must be very brave,” Rose said sternly, her eyes still trained on Thorfinn’s cousin. “Your brother is in danger and needs our help. There may be spies on Hamarray, and we must be careful who we trust.”
“Spies! What spies?” Percy demanded. “Why am I just now hearing about this?”
Astrid silenced both Freya and Percy with a look as she slowly rose to her feet. Nervously, she smoothed her skirts, but her trembling fingers only crinkled the coarse fabric even more.
“What can I do to help find Sinclair?” Astrid asked.
“Where are the places that the bird-watchers showed the most interest? Areas that would be good for secret meetings? Hideouts with views of Scapa Flow?” Rose fired off the questions.
“Um, the broch,” Astrid said hurriedly. “And there’s a cave in the cliffs not too far from the ancient tower that’s easily reachable from the headlands. You can see exceedingly far in all directions.”
“What about the sea cave that’s accessible by boat?” Rose questioned.
“You know about it?” Astrid asked, surprised.
“Thorfinn showed me.” Rose tried not to think of what had happened in that sheltered alcove. How she’d felt. How he’d felt. How,after such bliss, she’d dragged him into this mess, this horrid, awful, deadly mess.
“I did take the bird-watchers to that secluded inlet. It’s a good place to see seafowl.”
“And to hide small, swift boats,” Rose added. She pushed back on every emotion now, even the anger. Somehow, she found the preternatural calm that had allowed her to navigate her ambulance through the dark, crowded roads as men and horses screamed and shells fell. Holding on to that steely focus, Rose began to plan. “We should fan out. A group of us should check the rock outcrop on the headlands, the others the broch. If they’re empty, we’ll head to the sea cave. Young Thomas, do you know what cliff cave Astrid is referring to?”
