Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“Let’s see if his tongue proves as useful as his sword should’ve been,” Torrance muttered, pushing the door open.
Inside the room, the firepit burned brightly, casting a good warmth throughout the large area. Gavin stood near the long table closest to the heat, his cloak damp and his boots caked with mud. A travel-weary slump bent his shoulders, but his eyes lifted quickly at Torrance’s entrance, and he straightened.
“My lord,” he greeted with a respectful nod, though his voice carried a tight edge, forced yet calm, perhaps even practiced.
Torrance said nothing at first. He took his time removing his cloak to drop on a bench, drawing out the moment as his gaze raked over the man. “You said you have news.”
Gavin nodded, stepping forward. “I did. Keeping to the trees, on my way home as you ordered, I caught sight of a few riders. I followed at a distance.” He paused, turning a quick glance toward Brack before continuing. “Mercenaries, I’d wager. The sort who fights for coins and little else or entices others with coins. I would not be surprised if it was them who caused the betrayal among our warriors.”
Brack’s brow furrowed, and he looked ready to speak, but Torrance raised a hand, bidding silence. He moved to the table, resting both palms on its edge, leaning slightly toward Gavin.
“That’s quite the tale, Gavin. Mercenaries, skulking through the woods, plotting betrayal.” Torrance gave a faint, humorless smile. “You must have followed them far to be gone as long as you were.”
“I did. I thought it important,” Gavin said quickly, too quickly. “They led me past the ridgeline. I returned as soon as I lost their trail.”
“And yet,” Torrance said with a hard gaze on the man, “I saw you.”
Gavin’s eyes narrowed. “Saw me?”
Torrance straightened. “At Clan Stott. You were speaking with Chieftain Eagan.”
The room went still.
Brack stiffened beside him, turning sharply to Gavin, whose jaw flexed as if working through his next lie.
Torrance’s voice sliced through the heavy tension like a sharp blade. “Strange, isn’t it, how a man so busy tracking mercenaries ends up in conversation with a chieftain of the clan where I was meant to stay?”
Gavin opened his mouth but said nothing. The spark of surprise, or was it calculation, had already given him away.
Torrance held his gaze. “So go on, Gavin. Tell me again… about these mercenaries.”
Gavin hesitated, his mouth parting slightly, then snapped shut again as if weighing his words.
“Don’t keep me waiting,” Torrance cautioned.
“Aye, I did pass near Clan Stott,” he said at last, eyes darting between Torrance and Brack. “But only to see if they had any word of strangers in the area. Chieftain Eagan caught sight of me and summoned me. What was I to do? Refuse a chieftain and raise suspicion?”
Brack frowned but said nothing.
Torrance’s jaw tightened. He stepped around the table, slow and deliberate, his boots thudding on the packed dirt floor. “I ordered you to return home and report what happened to Brack. Yet you saw fit to trail mercenaries and to pause long enough to chat with Chieftain Eagan.?”
Gavin drew himself up. “I serve Clan Glencairn. I did what I thought best.”
Torrance halted in front of him, close enough to see the sheen of sweat beginning to bead at Gavin’s brow. “Nay, you did what served you. And I want to know why.”
Gavin’s breath caught. “My lord—”
“Who gave the order?” Torrance barked. “Who bought your loyalty? Tell me who stands behind this betrayal!”
Gavin’s face contorted. “Someone wiser than you is what I heard.” His voice cracked with something twisted—bitterness, regret, guilt. “I followed orders same as every man there. You were never meant to survive the battle with Clan MacLeish.”
Brack moved, startled, but Torrance’s hand went up, stopping him as his eyes narrowed dangerously.
Gavin gave a bitter laugh. “You should have died. That’s what was promised. A clean end to a burdened legacy. But you lived. Damn you, you lived.”
A heavy silence dropped, broken only by the slow, measured sound of Torrance’s breathing.
Then he moved, seizing Gavin by the front of his tunic and slamming him back against the table. “Who gave that promise?” he snarled, his face close. “Who?”
Gavin stared at him, defiant, even in fear. “Ask your noble allies. Ask those who smile to your face and sharpen blades behind your back. You have no idea how deep this hate for you runs.”
Fury raged in Torrance’s voice. “I’ll find them, every last one of them. And you’ll tell me all you know, or I’ll leave your bones for the crows.”
Brack stepped forward, uncertain. “Torrance—”
“Secure him in a dwelling surrounded by trustworthy guards,” Torrance ordered, his voice like ice. “He’ll talk by the time I get done with him.”
Gavin spat at the floor. “It doesn’t matter what you do to me. I can’t tell you what I don’t know. And it won’t change anything. You were meant to die… and some still mean to see it done.”