Willow blinked.
Christian scowled.
Sage froze, and her heart pounded in dread as she realized the book that he sought was the one she had translated.
He tossed the red book to the ground. “I grow tired of this game. Give me the book I seek.”
Willow picked it up. “This is the book Brother Nicolas gave me. It’s the only book I have.”
He whirled to glare at Simon. “Where is it?”
Simon’s eyes darted to Christian and then returned to his father. “The only other book I know of was burned.”
Sage’s grip anxiously tightened over the pommel of her sword.
“Burned?” Christian’s father asked. His shrewd gaze swept the group. “Then where are they headed? What are they following?”
Sage felt a chill run down her spine. That book was gone. The only remnants were the parchment pieces she had translated the book onto. Her calf started to itch from where the parchment was pressed against her skin.
“We’re on our way to a friend,” Landyn said, lowering his weapon.
Christian’s father’s eyes pinned him like small beacons.
“Don’t tell him anything, Landyn,” Christian ordered.
“Landyn Winchester?” Christian’s father wondered. He licked his lips. “Don’t you have ties to the Templar Knights?”
“Obviously, you have followed us wrongly,” Christian stated, drawing his father’s attention away from Landyn. “We don’t have the book you seek. You’ve come a long way for nothing.”
“The daughters hide items in their armor—where she kept the book,” a voice issued from the darkness.
Sage glanced at the darkened corner of the room and saw a silhouette slowly standing from one of the tables.
“Or in their boots,” he finished.
How did he know? Sage forced herself to keep her expression as neutral as when playing dice at the inn.
The man came into the light. He had a scar along the side of his face. Sage recalled that Christian had seen a man at Jo’s place with a scar. She looked at Christian.
He nodded as if in affirmation. “I should have recognized you,” Christian growled.
“It’s been a long time,” the scarred man said.
“A long time that you’ve been working for my father. From when I was a boy.”
“Did you find anything on their horses?” Simon asked the scarred man.
Willow’s back straightened in disapproval. Raven clenched her jaw in outrage.
Sage remained still, expecting violence, expecting to have to fight.
“No,” the scarred man answered. “Nothing important.”
“We don’t have another book,” Christian stated. “As Simon said, it was burned.”
His father turned back to Christian, and his lips pursed as he mulled over his words. His gaze shifted to Willow. “I need proof, son. I will need the women to remove their boots. We’ll start there.”
Sage’s mind raced frantically to think of ways she could keep the parchment concealed. If she could slide her foot from her boot, could she somehow keep the parchment hidden in her palm?
