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“This was never only about William,” she whispered.

“Nay.” Gavan’s voice lowered. “Men like Calder think in decades, not days. One ruined clan, one weakened alliance, one frightened magistrate at a time.”

A chill worked slowly through her despite the heavy cloak wrapped around her shoulders. For the first time, she understood the forged letters not as a private betrayal, but as a piece in a larger struggle for influence spreading far beyond Dingwall itself.

The thought had barely settled when Gavan suddenly lifted one hand.

The company halted immediately.

Fresh hoofprints.

He dismounted. Snow crunched under his boots as he crouched, gloved fingers brushing the edge of one print.

“Four riders,” he said.

Sorcha’s pulse quickened. “Travelling south?”

“Nay.” He stood. “North. Towards Lemlair.”

A cold weight settled in her chest. “They circle,” she murmured.

He nodded. “Or they watch,” he said as he remounted. “Keep tight formation,” he ordered the guards.

They rode on, and the road narrowed near the frozen burn. Ice crusted along the banks, slick and treacherous. Sorcha’s mare faltered slightly on the descent.

Gavan’s hand shot out instinctively, gripping her bridle. “Steady,” he said.

To the horse or to her, she could not tell.

Their knees brushed. For a heartbeat, they were very close. “If Calder intends interference,” she said quietly, “it will not be subtle.”

“Nay.”

“Then why the circling?”

He did not release the bridle immediately. “He means to intimidate.”

Her eyes lifted to his. “And possibly more.”

He released the bridle slowly. “You think they mean to silence William.”

“I think,” she said carefully, “that if William speaks freely, something unravels.”

*

Dingwall’s rooftops emerged through the pale morning haze, smoke curling upward from clustered chimneys. The courthouse bell tower stood stark against the winter sky. Movement lined the road ahead, more than usual for a trial.

Spectators, men in neutral colours, who were curious about the upcoming trial; until she saw the faint, but unmistakable, Clan Calder blue-and-green plaids among them. Did that mean the man known as Calder was here and not on his way to Lemlair?

Sorcha knew the moment Gavan saw the Calder clansmen. His expression hardened, but not with anger, with readiness.

“They will try something,” she said.

“Aye.”

“Publicly?”

“If they are bold.”