He scowled at her. “What do ye mean by that?”
“It’s called confirmation bias. You already believed your father was up to no good so when we found those weapons, it confirmed what you already believed. But it doesn’t mean you’re right.”
“What other explanation is there? His seal and an order for weapons was found on a merchant in Lanwick. You heard what my father said about Lanwick when we first came here—that he hoped those raiders destroyed it. And now we find weapons—the same kind of weapons used to attack us—in one of his warehouses! What other explanation is there other than he’s the one in league with Leif Snarlsson and the raiders?”
“I don’t know, Conall. I just think perhaps you ought to talk to him before you take a step there’s no coming back from.”
“Talk to him? Ye saw how well that went!”
“Don’t you think you should still try?”
“To what end?” he barked, throwing up his hands.
He was suddenly furious, not with Molly, but with this whole cursed mess. With his father for being who he was, with himself for not being able to forgive, for the Order of the Osprey for sending him up here in the first place, with fate for putting him in this impossible situation.
“Ye dinna understand, Molly. Ye dinna know my father like I do. Ye dinna know the kind of man he is. He’s cruel. Ruthless. Without any shred of moral decency. If I talk to him, then I lose my chance to catch him by surprise. My only chance of stopping both him and Leif Snarlsson is by not letting him know that I’m onto him.”
“Do you really know what kind of man he is?” Molly countered. “Or do you just know the type of man youthinkhe is? The man you remember from your childhood, the idea of him that’s been distorted by time and grief and anger, might not be the man he really is.”
Conall’s hands clenched into fists. “I know what he is,” he said darkly.
“He’s just a man,” Molly replied.
Conall bristled, feeling the heat of his wrath radiating from his face. “Ye can say whatever ye like,” he said coldly, “but ye dinna know what this is like. Ye get on so well with yer family and that’s why ye dinna understand.”
“Oh, is that right?” Molly retorted, anger flashing in her hazel eyes. “You think you’ve got the monopoly on family angst, do you? Perhaps Oskar and Magnus are right. Perhaps you really are just an arrogant, spoiled, nobleman!”
Her eyes blazed as she glared at him and he glared right back. What right did she have to speak to him like this? She didn’t know what he’d been through, didn’t know what even being here, in this place, cost him.
Conall took a step toward her, his chest heaving with anger. “Ye dinna know anything about me, Molly. Ye dinna know what it’s like to be betrayed by yer own father, to be forced to leave everything ye’ve ever known and loved behind. Ye dinna know what it’s like to sleep with one eye open, never knowing if the people ye care about are safe or not. Ye dinna know what it’s like to have to make impossible choices every single day and live with the consequences for the rest of yer life. So dinna ye dare stand there and judge me!”
Molly didn’t flinch despite his outburst. She stood her ground, her eyes still blazing. “I’m not judging you, Conall. I’m trying to help you. But you’re so convinced that you’re right and everyone else is wrong that you can’t even see that you might be making a mistake. You can’t see that your father might not be the monster you think he is. You can’t see that there might be a way to resolve this without resorting to revenge.”
“Revenge?” Conall spat. “Is that what ye think this is about?”
“Isn’t it?” Molly countered. “Isn’t that why you’re so determined to catch your father in the act? Because you want revenge for what he did to you and your mother?”
“Ye’ve been listening to my stepmother! She’s been filling yer head with lies!”
Molly held up her hands. “No, Conall, Adaira didn’t say anything bad about either you or your mother. She just wants you to talk to your father and try to reconcile. And maybe that’s what you need too, instead of seeking revenge. You’re consumed by it and I can’t help but wonder if it’s really worth it. What if you’re wrong? What if your father isn’t what you think he is? What if you end up hurting the wrong people?”
“I know what I’m doing,” Conall said tightly, his voice low. “I know what it takes to protect Alba. And I’ll do whatever it takes, even if it means going against my own blood.”
Molly sighed and looked away, her face filled with sadness. “I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I made,” she said softly. “I don’t want you to be consumed by hatred and vengeance like I was. It’s not worth it in the end, Conall.”
“What do ye mean? Ye’ve told me how close ye are to yer father and how much ye miss him.”
“Yes,” she said with a nod. “But it wasn’t always like that. For a long time I hated him as much as you hate yours.”
Conall’s eyebrows came up at this. “Ye did?”
She nodded. “I blamed him for my mother’s death.”
Conall went very still. This was a part of her life she’d never shared with him. He hadn’t even known her mother was dead. Damn him, but he’d been a selfish bastard. Here he was carping on about his own troubles and ignoring her hurt entirely.
“Why did ye blame him?” he asked gently.
Molly’s eyes darkened. “He was never there for us, not like he should have been. He was always away, always working. I remember when my mother was sick, he was out on the boat all day and didn’t come back until it was too late. I was with her when she died. I was eleven years old and really, really needed my da with me. But he wasn’t there. I was angry with him for a long time after that.”
