Page 128 of Laird of Smoke
Now Malcolm recognized him.His brows lifted, and he waved them forward into the pavilion.
Adam had promised to let Eve speak, so despite the king looking to him for a report, Adam allowed her to break the news.Let her tighten the noose around her own neck.
“Your Grace,” she said, “’tis with great regret we must inform ye of a terrible sin committed by two o’ your men today.”
“A sin?”Malcolm sighed.“What sin?”He no doubt imagined the terrible sin was going to be skipping Mass or imbibing too much mead.
“They entered an alehouse in the woods, Your Grace, owned by the Fergus clan.Violated the alewife.Attacked the alewife’s husband.And then burned down the alehouse.”
The king made a grimace of distaste, but he didn’t seem particularly shocked.“And you have proof our men did this?”
“Aye, Your Grace.”
She took the satchel off of her shoulder, opened it, and began rummaging through the contents.
“I have the dagger used to stab the man,” she said.“It bears the royal insignia.”
“I see.And what do you have to say about this, Rivenloch?”
Adam stiffened.The king had called him by his clan name.Now Eve would know.Now she would realize who he was.
Eve’s blood grew cold.
The king had called him Rivenloch.Not Brother Adam.Malcolm must have recognized him from their earlier conversation, despite the monk’s costume.
She told herself none of that mattered.Adam might be upset that Eve knew who he was.But he could explain himself later.All that mattered at the moment was showing the king the incriminating dagger.Getting restitution for the alewife and her husband.Stopping the atrocities being carried out by his men.
Shite.Where was that damned dagger?
Adam cleared his voice and said cryptically, “I have my own suspicions, Your Grace.”
“Aye?”
“The woman is lying.”
Adam’s accusation was so unexpected, it took Eve a moment to comprehend it.
In the brief silence, the king chuckled as if Adam had made a jest.“Lying?A nun?”
“She’s not a nun, Your Grace, any more than I’m a monk,” Adam said.“She’s a spy like me.”
Adam’s confession was calculated.Icy.Heartless.
For a moment Eve couldn’t move.Couldn’t breathe.What was he saying?Why would he tell the king such a thing?
She tried to imagine a useful reason for Adam to pretend she was a spy.
She could think of none.
“Nay, Your Grace,” she gasped out, digging feverishly for the dagger.“I have the proof here.”
Unable to find it, she upended the satchel and shook it, spilling its contents onto the ground.Desperate, she scrabbled through the clothing and tools and foodstuffs.
The dagger was nowhere to be found.
“Look there, Your Grace,” Adam said, pointing to something strewn among the litter.
He lifted up the fine silver piece to show the king.The Rivenloch medallion.
