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Restraint could be strength. Judgement could hold a line as firmly as steel. And perhaps protecting his people no longer required him to fight as he once had, but to see clearly when others could not, to remain steady when anger threatened to rule weaker men.

The realisation settled quietly but deeply within him.

The wound in his shoulder would always remain. Some battles would now belong to younger warriors with stronger arms. Perhaps his worth had never rested solely on what he could destroy.

Perhaps it rested equally in what he could preserve.

Sorcha’s fingers tightened gently around his, as though she sensed the shift moving silently through him.

For the first time since his injury, Gavan no longer felt diminished by what he had lost.

Chapter Sixteen

The snow had stopped during the night. The streets of Dingwall lay white and quiet beneath a pale winter sky. Footprints crisscrossed the square before the courthouse, but they were orderly now, not the restless churn of yesterday.

Word had travelled. Not only of William’s accusation but of the attempted silencing, and of the provost’s swift response.

The courtroom had grown oppressively still by the time Gavan ordered William brought forward again. The guards escorted him to the centre of the floor, the chains at his wrists were as heavy and unyielding as before. Yet something had changed. He was no longer merely a condemned traitor awaiting swift judgement, but of a man whose testimony had become too dangerous to ignore. Tiredness shadowed his face, yet he stood straighter than he had the previous day, as though finally speaking the truth had stripped away at least one layer of fear.

From her place near the side benches, Sorcha watched her brother draw a slow breath before lifting his gaze towards the provost’s chair.

Gavan regarded him steadily. “Yesterday you admitted to forging correspondence bearing the names and seals of Highland clans.”

“Aye.” William’s voice carried clearly despite the strain roughening it.

“You further testified that the rebellion described within those letters did not exist.”

“Aye.”

“And that others encouraged the spread of those false claims for purposes beyond clan grievance alone.”

A faint unease moved through the chamber.

Sorcha watched as William’s jaw tightened briefly before he answered once more. “Aye.”

Gavan leaned back slightly in the carved provost’s chair. “Then this court requires full testimony. No omissions and no protection for men who would willingly see others destroyed to preserve themselves.”

For a few seconds, Sorcha feared William might retreat into silence again. His gaze shifted briefly towards her, uncertainty flickering there, but when he looked back at Gavan, something inside him seemed to settle.

“The forged letters were never truly about rebellion,” he said at last. “They were about pressure.”

A murmur stirred through the chamber.

“Explain,” Gavan said evenly.

William swallowed once. “Certain routes were named repeatedly within the letters. Certain inspections encouraged. Certain clans positioned to appear unstable or dangerous before the Crown.” Shame roughened his voice. “I believed I was exposing corruption among rival clans, but instead I was helping create it.”

“Who directed those details?” Gavan asked.

William hesitated only briefly this time. “Men tied to trade in Dingwall.”

The chamber shifted uneasily. Merchants seated near the rear stiffened visibly.

“Name them.”

William’s gaze moved slowly across the room until it settled upon Andrew MacLeish, seated beside the guild elders. “Andrew MacLeish advised which routes would suffer most if Crown scrutiny fell upon them.”

Immediate uproar broke loose.