The elder backed up quickly. Two men stepped forward, grabbing Philip’s arms and forcing him back to the stump. They remained holding his arms. His bare chest gleamed with fresh blood and scabs from where they’d burned him the day before. They’d burned him at least a dozen times, all over his torso.
Isobel choked, her eyes blurring. The smith was coming forward, carrying tongs that glowed crimson. Philip turned his face away, his jaw hard as he braced himself.
Isobel held her breath, unable to look away as the tongs drew closer to him. She couldn’t do it—she couldn’t just stand here and watch. She threw back the hood of her mantle and pushed through the crowd. “Stop!”
The crowd parted for her. The smith stepped back, withdrawing the tongs and frowning at her. Philip turned, trying to stand, his eyes furious.
“Stop this at once!” She moved in front of Philip and turned to the elder. “You said you would set him free if you had the witch. Well, here I am!”
“That’s not her—she’s lying,” Philip said. “Go away you stupid woman and leave me alone.”
The elder looked her up and down, frowning slightly, then turned to Ewan Kennedy. “This is she, is it not?”
Ewan Kennedy nodded, his face paling. “Aye, she’s the one.”
“No—you’ve got it all wrong,” Philip was saying.“She’snot a witch.I’mthe witch. I bewitched her.”
No one paid him any mind. All eyes were on Isobel. She held the elder’s gaze steadily. “You said you’d set him free.”
“If he revealed your name. He still has not done so.”
Isobel turned to look at Philip expectantly.
He shrugged. “I’ve never seen her before in my life.”
“I am Isobel MacDonell, daughter of Alan MacDonell of Glen Laire and betrothed to the earl of Kincreag. Now set him free.”
The elder sighed regretfully. “Well, I would, Mistress MacDonell, except we all heard him confess to being a witch.”
Isobel shook her head incredulously. “No—he was just saying that, to protect me. He’s not a witch.Iam.”
“She’s insane, actually,” Philip said. “I canna get rid of the stupid cow, following me about everywhere. She’s harmless, though, I vow it. Not a witch at all.”
“It looks as if we have two witches,” Colin said. “And they’ve both confessed. I’d say the trial is over.”
The elder nodded thoughtfully. He gestured to someone, and, moments later, Isobel’s arms were grabbed and her satchel confiscated. She looked at Philip, and he was shaking his head at her, glowering furiously.
“Take them to the cellar while we vote,” the elder said. The other elders who had been gathered at the forge set off toward the tavern, black hats of various heights bobbing.
Isobel and Philip were shoved in the opposite direction. Philip didn’t say a word to her until they were forced down into a moldy cellar and tied to a pole, their backs to each other. When the others left and the lock clanked, he said, “Was that your plan? Because it was bloody brilliant.”
“He said he’d set you free!”
“And you believed him?”
Isobel’s throat tightened and her eyes burned. When she could finally speak again her voice was hoarse. “They were going to hurt you…I didn’t think…I just…”
He didn’t reply but she fancied she could hear him shaking his head in the dark. She’d really mucked this up. It seemed her suspicions that she was the other witch in her vision were right. She and Philip would burn together.
Their hands had been bound behind their backs, but they were secured to the stake with rope wrapped around their upper bodies, their backs to each other. Isobel felt Philip’s hands seeking hers around the stake. She clasped his fingers in response. They’d removed her gloves and the warm touch of his skin was reassuring somehow, despite their dismal situation.
“Isobel,” he said wearily, the sarcasm gone from his voice, “why did you come? You’re supposed to be at Lochlaire, getting married.”
“Gillian gave me your ring, I had a vision.”
“So you came to save me.”
“I guess I didn’t do so well.”
