Knox grunted and pushed her around the corner.

Her answer was standing there in the shadows. Margot would have known his figure anywhere. She didn’t think; she broke away from Knox and ran, her feet scarcely touching the ground. She vaulted her body at him, flinging her arms around him, desperate to feel him safe in her arms, and just as desperate not to lose him. “Arran, Arran... I thought you were lost to me,” she said. “I thought you were lost.”

“Come now, Margot.” He peeled her arms from him. “Come now, aye? We must make haste. Go and help your brother bring horses,” he said, and set her back, pushing her lightly into a paddock, where their mounts were grazing, still saddled.

Everything happened so quickly—Margot couldn’t say how, exactly, but she was in the saddle, and they were riding. Four horses, riding into the inky black of a moonless night. No one spoke. They just rode as quickly as they could with only the light from an anemic night sky to guide them, the only sound the horses laboring and their staccato cantering.

It seemed like hours to Margot before Knox drew up, bringing the party to a halt. They had come out of the forest and were riding alongside the sea now. The clouds had cleared, and the moon provided enough light to see the road.

“How did it come to this?” Knox asked Arran.

“You might ask your da that, aye? He drugged me so that I couldna resist him, then threw me into a hole.”

Even in the moonlight, Margot could see a fury on her brother’s face she’d never seen in him before.

“Stay to this road,” Knox said. “You might reach Scotland sometime tomorrow.”

“But you’re coming with us,” Margot said. “You must come with us! Pappa will take his anger out on you—”

“I can’t,” Knox said flatly. He caught her horse’s bridle and pulled her aside, off the road.

“Don’t go back, Knox,” she begged him. “Come with us! Balhaire is not so very awful. You’ll see. I know I’ve said that it is, but I’ve been unfair—”

“Hush now,” Knox said quietly. “Listen to me, darling. Someone must stay behind. If Mackenzie is innocent, someone must discover what Thomas Dunn is about. Someone must be here who will speak for him and for you, and you know there is no one here who will speak on your behalf save me. Something is amiss—there is no reason that Thomas Dunn would randomly choose Mackenzie to torment. Something is rotten and I intend to determine what it is.”

The stress of the last few days began to feel like a crushing weight on Margot’s chest. Was there no right way to turn? Was every decision steeped in loss? “You’ll be lost to me,” she said weakly.