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William stood tall. “I answer false.”

Gavan’s expression did not change. “Do you deny forging the letters?”

The question was precise.

William did not flinch. “I forged the letters,” he said.

The courtroom erupted with gasps and shouts. A chair scraped harshly across the stone floor.

Sorcha’s heart slammed painfully against her ribs.

Gavan struck the bench sharply with his palm. “Silence!”

The command cracked through the chamber hard enough to still even the angriest voices.

When quiet finally settled again, Gavan’s gaze fixed steadily upon William. “You admit to forging letters bearing the Munro seal and correspondence issued in Calder’s name?”

“Aye.”

A ripple of outrage moved visibly through the Calder contingent seated near the rear benches. Sorcha noticed Hugh Calder himself remained still, his expression carefully arranged into offended dignity. Too carefully.

“Then upon what grounds,” Gavan asked, his voice calm and dangerous in equal measure, “do you claim innocence?”

William’s gaze flicked once towards Sorcha.

She held his eyes steadily, willing him not to retreat into fear now.

When he spoke again, his voice carried farther than before. “Because forgery is not the same as treason.”

Another murmur moved through the chamber, quieter this time. Uneasy. Listening.

William drew a slow breath. “I forged words. Aye. I will answer for that before God and this court. But the rebellion described within those letters did not exist.” His jaw tightened. “No hidden army stood ready. No pact between clans had been sworn. No weapons were gathered against the Crown.”

Gavan remained motionless in the provost’s chair. “Then why create such correspondence at all?”

William hesitated only briefly. “Because I was told certain men were already acting against the Highlands while hiding safely behind merchants. I believed fear might force truths into the open.” Shame flickered harshly across his face. “Instead, I became the fool used to spread greater lies.”

The chamber stirred again.

“Used by whom?” Gavan asked.

William’s hands tightened visibly at his sides. Sorcha saw the moment fear moved through him; not fear of punishment now, but fear of naming powerful men aloud.

Gavan saw it too. “You stand under court protection while giving testimony,” Gavan said steadily. “Speak plainly.”

William’s eyes shifted briefly towards Hugh Calder.

The movement was small. Barely noticeable. Yet the room felt it instantly. A dangerous stillness settled over the chamber.

Calder rose at once, outrage sharpening his features. “This is absurd,” he snapped. “The man admits criminal forgery and now seeks to stain honourable names to spare his own neck.”

“Sit down,” Gavan said calmly.

The authority in the words struck harder than shouting.

Calder hesitated. Then slowly resumed his seat.

William swallowed once before speaking again. “I never intended rebellion,” he said hoarsely. “I intended exposure. Men spoke constantly of clan weakness, of merchants gaining influence over Highland lands, of debts tightening around smaller families while powerful interests profited from division.” His gaze hardened with self-disgust. “I believed forged accusations would force hidden dealings into daylight.”