Mary hesitated, chewing on her lip. "I… I overheard some of the other maids talkin', Miss. They say there's tae be an execution at any moment, right in the Grand Hall. They say someone is tae meet his end by the sword."
It was as though Morag's heart stopped beating entirely at the words and her ears rang as dizziness threatened to overwhelm her.
"Go," she ordered in a strangled voice. "Be safe."
Then, without another word, she turned and rushed down the corridor, running as fast as her feet could take her.
An execution.
She reached the stairs and dashed down them two at a time, grabbing at the walls to stop herself from falling but never slowing down. Christopher was in danger,realdanger, and she didn't know how to stop it. How could Morag, barely trained and armed with only a dagger, take on a hall full of armed men?
She could not directly stop an execution, but shecouldmake a big enough distraction to prevent it—something that would draw everyone's attention and let Christopher get away. She swung around a corner and took another set of stairs then raced through the halls until she reached the war room and its library. She bolted into the war room and through to the library where she'd lost her heart to Christopher without even knowing it.
Staring around the room for a wild second, she still felt the burning flame of that first kiss on her lips. Her eyes landed after a moment on the table, where an unrolled map lay beside one empty and one nearly full bottle of distilled spirits.
"Hold on, love," she whispered and grabbed the bottle.
She pulled off the lid in one movement and threw the alcohol at random, splashing every piece of paper she could reach, making sure the entire room was drenched in it.
Hands shaking, she dropped the bottle, letting it smash on the ground, and rushed back into the main war room and the smoky fireplace within. The fire was still slowly burning from the night, and she grabbed a torch from the wall and lit it before returning to the library.
All these maps. All these scrolls. Months and years of hard work, of knowledge, of the plans that Campbell had built. All fuel for the phoenix to be reborn.
She took a deep breath and lowered the torch to the first alcohol-soaked scroll. It caught fire immediately in an explosion of heat and light so bright that Morag had to take a step back. The flames devoured everything in their path, catching first the next scroll then the wood of the bookshelf itself, working their way up into something monstrous.
Coughing in the sudden smoke, Morag ran to the other side of the library and set another map alight, then another, until suddenly she stood in a vast ring of flame and smoke that was getting bigger and more ferocious with every passing second. Coughing and spluttering, she threw the torch into a pile of books, then turned to run for the door before the fire overwhelmed her.
Before she could reach it, the door flew open. There, framed in the doorway with her fire creating deadly shadows across his face, stood Robert Caindach and two guards, murder in their eyes.
Christopher was numb.His mind felt encased in fog and, as he took the sword that Ian offered him, he couldn't feel his own fingertips. Rory stared up at him from the floor, his face set and pale under the dark bruising. Alexandra was openly weeping in fear, panic, and horror, while Ian smiled and the crowd watched in hushed, bloodthirsty anticipation.
"Christopher!" Alexandra shouted, her voice broken and desperate. "Christopher, please! How can ye have forgotten who ye are? This isRory.Please!"
"Shut up, woman," Alistair growled.
Alexandra ignored him. "Please, dinnae hurt me brother. Remember how ye and Arran took him fishin' at the pond? Remember how—ah!"
Her words were cut off as Ian spun around and slapped her hard across the face. She fell to the ground with a scream of pain. Christopher's hand tightened around the heavy sword, pain shooting through him as he saw her agony.
"Dinnae touch her, bastard!" Rory screamed, fighting hard against his bonds. "I'll kill ye!"
Ian turned to face Christopher, fire in his eyes. "What are ye waitin' for?" he spat. "Prove yerself! Are ye me brother or not?"
This was it, Christopher realized.
This was the end.
There was no way out, no way forward. He would not hurt Rory, and when he refused, Ian or Alistair would kill him on the spot. And though he could fight off a few people, the room was too full of enemies for any hope of survival. He had expected fear, but all that came to him in that moment was regret.
He thought of Morag and that smile she'd given him when he promised to return and set her free. He wished he could see her one last time.
Suddenly, a horn blared throughout the castle, a loud warning signal that was impossible to ignore.Danger.
"An attack?" Alistair demanded.
Screaming started a moment later from the next room, and soon enough smoke was curling in the air. Chaos erupted around them, people trying to flee in every direction, some trampled underfoot as others pushed them in their desperation to escape. The word echoed around the hall, first in whispers then in shouts and screams.
Fire. Fire!
