A cruel, mocking laugh reverberated through the room, and Christian’s father threatened, “The other option is to kill you and take it.”
Marcus gritted his teeth, vowing to do whatever it took to protect Sage. He’d never let anyone hurt her—not while he still drew breath.
“There’s no need for violence,” Sage said. “All we want is to leave. I am willing to give you what you want. The translation of the book that burned.”
Marcus felt the weight of Sage’s sacrifice. He could sense her need to protect them, yet he knew how hard she had worked on those parchments, the hours she had spent translating that book. He wanted to help, but he was powerless to do anything but watch as she made her fateful decision.
Lord Sterling’s gaze settled on the parchment in her hand, and he licked his lips. “These are the directions you are following?”
Sage nodded.
The moment stretched. The tension in the air was palpable. The parchment was what Lord Sterling wanted. But at what cost to Sage? And to them? They had been deciphering the directions, agonizing over their meaning. Marcus had no idea what was left in the puzzle, but he was sure it wouldn’t be easy. And it would be impossible without the directions.
Yet, he understood why Sage was offering the parchment to Sterling. She didn’t want her family harmed. Her sisters meant more to her than the mystery on the parchment.
Finally, Christian’s father nodded and motioned for his men to lower their weapons.
Raven, Willow, Landyn, Christian, and Marcus were atop their horses in the inn’s yard. A veil of thick clouds shrouded the large moon. A gentle, unsettling breeze blew around them, rustling the leaves and twigs on the ground as if encircling them.
Sage stared at the worn parchment in her hands, feeling the pain of having to give it up. She recalled the agony she had felt when she thought Mercy had been lost in the river. Her anguish would be ten times worse if one of her sisters, or Marcus, were hurt. She knew what she was doing was right.
The parchment was not more important than her family.
A guard led her horse to her. She grabbed the pommel and pulled herself up. This was the only way Christian’s father would let them go unhurt.
The guard held her horse’s reins tightly.
Christian’s father walked stiffly, his back slightly hunched. Sage saw he was hurting, perhaps from a previous wound, but he was trying hard not to show his impairment, his weakness. His weakness was physical, while hers had always been internal. She had believed her family was holding her back. Her father never wanted her to read; he didn’t believe she needed the skill and she had assumed her sisters felt the same way. Only now did she realize what she had thought was a weakness was her strength. Her family. She could not have pursued this mystery without her sisters. They were worth more than solving the puzzle. She would give it all up to keep them safe.
Christian’s brother stood near the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and his lips tight in displeasure.
The scarred man leaned against the wall of the inn, observing. His face was devoid of emotion.
When Christian’s father reached Sage’s side, he held his palm out.
For a moment, Sage couldn’t move her hand. She stared at her fingers wrapped around the parchment, willing them to open.
Christian’s father shoved his hand at her.
They had a deal. And for the Hawkes, their word was their bond. Sage handed him the parchment.
He snatched it from her and hungrily gazed at the translated words on the parchment.
“Let’s go,” Willow said anxiously.
Yet, Sage waited.
Christian’s father slowly raised victorious eyes to her, a satisfied smirk tugging the corners of his mouth. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod of approval.
The guard holding her horse’s reins released them. Sage couldn’t help but show her distaste as she gazed upon Christian’s father. Amazement, anger, and sympathy filled her as she thought of what Christian must have endured as a child. How had he grown up with such a horrible influence and come out so strong and good? His mother must have been an amazing woman to have been able to raise him so well.
“Sage,” Marcus implored as the others spurred their horses away from the inn.
“Even Christian could not escape me. I always get what I want,” his father sneered joyfully.
She leaned down to him. “You’ve lost your son in the process. I would say you have failed.” She straightened as his grin faded. Then, she urged her horse after the others, Marcus beside her.
They rode hard down the road to get far away from the inn. They slowed to a gentle trot and eventually pulled off onto a small grassy clearing as the sun crested over the horizon.
