Reid felt as though the ground had opened beneath him and he was spiraling into an endless pit.

“Ye…” His own voice sounded distant to his ears. “Ye arenae my father.”

But even as he said it, he knew deep in his bones that the man spoke the truth. Reid’s eyes were like his mother’s, the same steely gray Brinda had given to Logan and Mairin. Yet the man before him had Reid’s coloring, his mouth, his jawline…it was like looking at a warped likeness of himself, a reflection seen on the rippling surface of a loch.

“We meet at last,” the man said, staring down at Reid where he knelt in the snow. “I had always wondered if ye took more after me or Brinda. It is a miracle ye didnae realize it sooner, but as I said, ye seem a fool.”

“How?” Reid breathed, hardly registering the man’s cruel words.

The man lifted one shoulder. “It was easy enough to snatch yer mother during one of her beloved rides in the months before her wedding to Murdoch Mackenzie. Her family’s farm was close to my border, ye ken.”

His border? The wheels in Reid’s mind turned slowly. Could this man be...?

“Laird Serlon MacVale.”

Serlon paused at the interruption, but tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Ye should be proud,” he said coolly. “Though ye were bastard-born, ye are still the son of a Laird.”

Reid surged to his feet, struggling against the rope holding his hands behind his back. “What did ye do to my mother?” he bellowed, spit flying in Serlon’s face.

Two of Serlon’s warriors took him by the elbows and kicked his knees out from under him, forcing him to the ground once more.

“I fucked her a few times, hoping that sullying her would be enough to end the alliance between the Mackenzies and the MacDonnells,” Serlon said evenly. “But when I released her, the bitch didnae open her mouth and confess to Murdoch that she had been ruined. Her pregnancy should have done the trick even with her continued silence, yet for some reason Murdoch accepted ye as his own.”

Reid wanted to vomit. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tear Serlon MacVale apart bit by bit with naught but his hands and teeth.

He tried to bolt to his feet once more, but the MacVale warriors held him fast.

“And Euna…” Serlon clucked his tongue. “Her death should have thwarted yer alliance as well. Gellis here was sent with the express task of putting an end to it.” He motioned to the trees, and for the first time Reid noticed the lady’s maid huddling next to a horse.

She took a few cautious steps forward. “I did everything ye asked, Laird,” she said. “I waited until she was pregnant, I put the poison in her wine—”

Reid felt bile rising in the back of his throat. Harmless, innocent Euna and their unborn bairn had been poisoned at his own father’s command.

“Enough,” Serlon snapped, cutting Gellis off. “Ye were supposed to break the alliance, but ye didnae, did ye?”

Gellis shrank back, hunching into her shoulders.

“And then I got word that ye’d married some English chit,” Serlon went on, waving over his shoulder at Corinne. She stood stiff as a board with the knife to her throat, her eyes round and wet with terrified tears.

“I drank to yer marriage,” Serlon continued, “for I couldnae have planned things better myself. But ye somehow managed to convince that old fool MacDonnell to remain allied with ye. I realized I needed to take matters into my own hands. So ye see,” he said, fixing Reid with a hard look. “I am no’ some petty thief. I didnae just steal yer mother’s innocence, nor yer wife and bairn, nor yer new bride. I have worked for this year after year, decade after decade.”

His dark eyes glittered. “And now at last I’ll have what I’ve worked so hard for. I’ll have my war.”

“Why?” Reid demanded.

Serlon lifted one brow. “Chaos breeds opportunity,” he replied with a grim quirk of his lips.

Of course. If Serlon could set the MacDonnells and Mackenzies at each other’s throats, no one would pay attention to the MacVales. He could reive and poach as much as he wanted.

Serlon’s words were disturbingly similar to something the Bruce had told Reid. It’s what I’m good at, the Bruce had said. Creating a stir and then making the most of it. Yet the Bruce was fighting for the freedom of all Scottish people from English tyranny. Serlon MacVale fought only for himself.

“Aye, ye’ll have yer war,” Reid rasped. “For I willnae stop until every last MacVale is wiped from this land for what ye’ve done. As will the MacDonnells. I sent two of my men to the MacDonnell keep to tell them what ye are about. No doubt they’ll arrive shortly, and I imagine they’ll be eager to gut ye for attempting to frame them.”

For the first time, Serlon’s gaze faltered. He shot a look to the giant holding Corinne.

“Is that true?” he demanded.

The giant lifted one shoulder, dropping his eyes. “When Mackenzie and the other rode east, two more headed north.”

“Ye fool, Mungo!” Serlon hissed. “Why didnae ye tell me before? I wouldnae have stood here blathering if I’d kenned that—”

“Laird,” the archer said, jogging toward them through the trees. Reid hadn’t noticed the man slip away, but now that he returned, his face was red from exertion and cold. “From the ridge to the west I saw a band of MacDonnells approaching. They are mayhap an hour away.”

“How many?” Serlon snapped.

“Two score, mayhap more.”

“Shite.”

“Ye wanted war,” Reid said, glowering up at Serlon. “Now ye’ll have it.”

“Shut yer mouth,” Serlon barked. “I need to think.”

Taking advantage of Serlon’s sudden agitation, Reid continued. “Everyone kens what ye did, MacVale. The ruse is up. Ye cannae face two score MacDonnell warriors, let alone the might of the Mackenzie clan when I bring my wrath upon ye.”

“I said shut yer mouth!”

Serlon drove his fist into Reid’s jaw, making his head snap back. Reid spat blood and let a low, harsh laugh rise from his throat.

“Ye’re as good as dead.” Though Reid wasn’t as certain as his words, he had to keep Serlon off-balance until he could find a way to get Corinne to safety.

Ignoring Reid, Serlon’s eyes searched the surrounding trees in thought. “We’ll lay a trap for them,” he said, the wheels of his mind turning behind his dark eyes. “Just as we did for Mackenzie here. We’ll draw them farther onto MacVale land using Mackenzie as bait. But when we reach the keep, we’ll outnumber them four to one.”

“What of that one?” the giant called Mungo said, nodding behind Reid.

Reid twisted his head, his gaze landing on Alain. Blessedly, his friend’s chest still rose and fell shallowly. The arrow protruding from his torso hadn’t killed him—yet.

“Leave him,” Serlon answered. “He can tell the MacDonnells that we have Mackenzie on MacVale land—if he lives.”

“Laird,” Gellis said tentatively. “This is a dangerous plan. If ye make all-out war with the MacDonnells—”

“I didnae ask for yer opinion, woman,” Serlon cut in.

Gellis’s gaze darted around the clearing. “But the MacDonnells—”

“Are ye loyal to yer precious MacDonnells, or are ye loyal to me?” Serlon roared.

“Ye, Laird,” Gellis said quickly, her brown eyes rounding.

“Come here, then.”

Gellis cautiously moved forward, ducking her chin but watching Serlon like a beggar watched a wealthy man reaching for his coin.

When she halted before him, he took hold of her chin, leveling her with a hard look. Suddenly he yanked a dagger from his belt and slashed it across Gellis’s throat.

A bright red ribbon of blood shot from Gellis’s neck. Her eyes bulged and she made a gurgling noise as she sank to her knees in the snow.

“S-Serlon,” she hissed with her last breath, staring up at him in horror.

“I warned ye no’ to be so familiar with me,” he murmured, pushing her the rest of the way down with his boot.

As her blood darkened the snow and her eyes glassed over in death, Serlon stood over her for a moment. “Worthless whore,” he said flatly, turning back to Reid.

Reid met his gaze unflinchingly, but sickness once again crashed over him, threatening to tear asunder the last of Reid’s control. He bore no sympathy for Gellis, for she’d done evil in Serlon’s name, yet Serlon was the true monster.

His father.

How long had he yearned to know the man who had given him life, who shared the same blood as Reid? He’d once thought that knowing his blood sire would close some door that had been left ajar deep in his heart. He’d thought it would end the nagging anxiety he felt about his legitimacy, his origins.

But instead of closing a door, it was as if it had been thrown open to reveal a world of nightmarish horrors. Instead of soothing his anxiety and laying to rest his doubts, he was cast into the heart of a storm, no longer knowing up from down.

Reid had this man’s jaw, his dark hair, the shape of his eyes. What else had he inherited from this demon? Did he hold the capacity for such hatred, such destruction and greed, in his own soul?

Serlon stared down at Reid, his hard features unreadable. Mayhap he was contemplating the same thing—what sort of man was his son, whom he’d never met, yet who shared his blood?

“Laird,” the archer murmured urgently, dragging Serlon’s attention away at last. “We must move if we hope to make it back to the keep before the MacDonnells reach us.”

Serlon drew the sword on his hip and turned back to Reid. For a terrible heartbeat, Reid thought Serlon had changed his mind about using Reid as bait. His gaze sought Corinne’s. If naught else, Reid had done one good thing that Serlon’s darkness could never touch—he’d loved Corinne.

But then Serlon turned his sword and brought down the hilt instead of the blade. The hilt made contact with Reid’s head, and the world turned black.