He scowls again. “The enemy kidnaps the sister of the Captain.”
“It’s fiction,” I say, but my voice is choked, my heart beating too rapidly.
“Aye,” Leith says. “But obviously the writer of these books knows something, doesn’t she?”
“How do you know it’s a she?”
He gives me a sharp look. “Do men write those kinds of books?”
“Of course.”
He’s silent for a moment. It hadn’t occurred to him before that it could be a man.
“We’ve looked into the publisher before,” I say, more of a statement than a question, but I’m asking him.
“Of course. But she uses a pen name. No way of tracking the writer down.”
“Totally anonymous?”
“Totally.”
I work my jaw, thinking things over. “They must be able to find her real name. How else would they pay her?”
“Not sure about that. Worth looking into.”
“Did Cairstina have concerns?”
“Aye,” he says soberly. “Every detail about Bryn’s wedding to Mac—the how, the why. It’s all in the book. If another rival Clan put two and two together…” His voice trails off.
“Aye.”
“It isn’t just that.” We both look behind us, and Leith’s wife Cairstina stands just a few paces away. “It’s more than that.” She worries her lip, her eyes troubled.
“What is it, then?” he asks.
She sighs. “In this book, Clan secrets are revealed.”
“Like what?” I ask her.
“Like the fact that the Clan has connections in Paris…” Her voice trails off and she gets a faraway look in her eyes. “Looks like it could just be fiction, and I can’t even read much into it myself, because I don’t know everything there is to know. But these books are available to the general public. If anyone ever thought they were actually… actually us…”
I nod. Leith nods. “So we need one of us to actually read them, then. Put the pieces together. Figure things out.”
“Aye.”
He looks at me, and I groan. “Seriously, brother?”
“Aye, Tate. I want to find this writer. I want to find out who knows as much as they do and if it’s only in our minds that we’re tying them into our Clan.”
Cairstina shakes her head. “It isn’t just my imagination, Leith. Honest to God, I’d only come to you if I had concerns, you know that. I love these books… and I hate the idea of the author getting in any sort of trouble.”
It’s unusual for her to be so talkative. When she joined our Clan, she was Leith’s mute prisoner, unable to speak at all. Over time, she has healed, but even now she chooses to speak rarely, her words selective and careful.
I nod. “Aye. I understand. Right, then, I’ll read the books. Do you have them?”
Leith shakes his head. “It’s smarter for you to read them in e-book. More discreet that way.” He looks around him, as if the writer of the books will just materialize out of thin air and appear behind him holding a paper and quill.
“Aye,” I say soberly, nodding.
