Chapter 25
Evan rode in silence, his three minders flanking him like shadows.
The four of them had set out before first light, slipping out of the village without anyone noticing, and taken a little-used track that led south. Despite Evan’s questions, Fergus had refused to tell him where they were headed.
Their road wound through dales and patches of woodland filled with morning mist so that the world existed in shifting shades of silver and white. The horses’ hooves struck the packed earth with dull thuds that seemed far too loud in the eerie stillness.
No one spoke.
Evan kept his posture loose in the saddle, one hand resting lightly on the pommel as if this were nothing more than a friendly jaunt. But inside, his nerves were twisted tight. He was all too aware of the knife-edge he walked. One slip, and it would all be over. Unconsciously, his hand kept rising to his neck, feeling the pouch beneath his tunic and the object within. It had become his anchor. His lodestone. His reminder that therewasa life beyond this. Ruby was waiting for him and hewouldget back to her.
The sun had risen well above the horizon but was still too weak to burn off the mist, when Fergus Key finally lifted a hand and they pulled their horses to a halt. Squinting, Evan spottedsomething ahead, darker splotches just visible through the mist. Only when the mists shifted slightly with the breeze did he figure out what he was looking at: a camp. Tents filled the spaces beneath the trees. Horses were tethered nearby, and armed men appeared and disappeared into the mist like wraiths.
Evan swallowed, schooling his face to calm. Surreptitiously, he checked his knives were all strapped in place.
Perimeter guards challenged them, Key exchanged words, and then they were waved on. They wove deeper into the camp until Key pulled up his horse and dismounted.
“Wait here,” he ordered before walking off into the mist.
Evan swung down from the saddle, Tam and Angus keeping a close watch on him. Nobody challenged them, but many of the men aimed none-too-friendly stares in Evan’s direction. He tipped them an insolent greeting, doing his best to appear confident.
After several minutes, Key returned and jerked his head. “Follow me.”
He led Evan through the trees and curtains of mist to a large tent. Guards lounged outside but moved aside when they spotted Key, allowing Evan and his escort to step inside.
Within, the tent was comfortably, if sparsely appointed, with matting covering the dirt floor and a few folding camp chairs.
Seoras MacInnes was sitting in one of them.
The warlord looked exactly as Evan remembered—big, broad-shouldered, and with the look of a brawler about him. His thick beard was streaked with gray now, his clothes rich but practical. He had a ruddy face and at first glance appeared almost jovial, the sort of man who might host a feast and clap his guests on the back with bellowing laughter.
But Evan knew better.
MacInnes’ most striking feature was the empty socket where his left eye had once been. A scar crossed it that pulled slightlywhen he smiled. And when that smile vanished, the air itself seemed to grow cold.
MacInnes’ face creased into a smile as Evan entered. “Ah! Evan Campbell!” he boomed, his voice rich with warmth and welcome. “It has been far too long. So how is my young apprentice?”
Evan forced a grin. “Hello, Seoras.”
The warlord strode forward and clasped Evan’s shoulders like a long-lost friend. “I’m pleased to see ye still alive.”
“On that, we wholeheartedly agree.”
MacInnes snorted a laugh and gestured at the table. “Come. We have much to discuss.”
Evan followed him, aware of Fergus Key and the others stationing themselves by the tent flap, blocking his escape. He forced himself to concentrate on the table MacInnes indicated. It was covered with maps of the region around Edinburgh, with several points marked in charcoal.
MacInnes tapped one of those points with a meaty finger. “Ye did well with the Byre and Clough estates.”
Evan shrugged. “A small thing.”
“Not at all,” MacInnes replied. “Closing the roads between those estates disrupted patrols exactly as we needed.”
Evan studied the map. Several points had been marked with symbols. Militia positions. Roads. Supply routes.
Seeing his gaze, MacInnes gestured. “There are loyal men waiting across the countryside. Men who understand what Scotland needs.” He traced a line toward Edinburgh. “When my final shipment arrives, they will move, each force striking at the same time.”
Evan nodded. The deployment around Edinburgh looked like a noose.
