“Lennox?” Jessie wore a frown and looked ready to argue.
“I need you to bring the carriage,” he insisted. “Be ready for us, for we will need to hasten from this place, for good. We will make our escape, never fear, but I need the carriage to do so. Go as fast as you can and bring the carriage to this place, but no farther than the inn we just passed. I will send a sign for you to approach.”
“A sign?” Ramsay asked with a dubious tone.
“You will know it when you see it.”
Ramsay glanced at Jessie, then nodded.
“Now go, and be fast about it.” Lennox rested a kiss on his sister’s head and then shooed her on her way.
“Good luck,” Ramsay said. “We will be ready for your sign.”
Lennox locked his gaze. “If I do not signal within the hour, fly from this place. Keep Jessie safe.”
Jessie stared at him. “Lennox, no.”
“Do as I say! Promise me!”
“I promise.” It was Ramsay who spoke. He nodded again and then grabbed Jessie by the arm and forced her to turn away.
Lennox could only be thankful his sister had such a determined protector.
Turning back to the scene ahead, he shut his eyes a moment in order to draw together every mote of power he had stoked for a time such as this. Then he stepped quickly along the street toward the gathering, his gaze on Chloris.
The simple blue gown she had on was torn, her hair loose.
He could only guess at what had occurred, but the nature of her position only made him more determined to pluck her from Keavey’s grasp. He had the ability, he was sure of that, but—as usual—he needed a plan. He was still walking in the shadows and he assessed how much time he had before they saw him. Not long enough to make a plan, but still he strode on.
Chloris lifted her head. When she saw him, she shook her head vehemently.
She’d been trying to warn him. Oh, how he loved her and her brave heart.
That’s when he saw the way.
Chanting his spell aloud, he stared at the fist she held to her chest.
With a startled cry she opened her palm and dropped the charm, which rolled across the street.
Lennox unleashed all the magic he had forced into it—and there was vitality aplenty. It had been done when he was an angry, thwarted young man, and the charm flared into life, flames as high as the rooftops soaring from it.
Screams issued from all around, the crowd shifting back quickly.
“She is a witch!” The fingers pointed at Chloris.
“I saw her throw the flame,” shouted another. “Hang her, burn her body!”
“It was I who threw the flame,” Lennox called, drawing their attention away from Chloris. “So it is me you will have to burn.”
“He is the Witch Master,” Tamhas Keavey informed them.
Several men charged at Lennox.
He darted away and changed direction, approaching the place where the charm blazed. “You want to see a witch burn?” he bellowed. “Then look and see!”
He lifted his arms, chanted the most ancient spell of all—that which created and sustained life—and stepped into the fire.
Screams issued from beyond and he heard Chloris’s voice amongst the melee.