Page 137 of A Rogue in Firelight

“My lord, if there was a lapse in dates or if a process was missed, it was never brought to my attention.”

“Why not?” Jameson barked.

“Such things are handled by my secretary and are stamped and approved routinely. They are passed along as necessary. The men were sent to the dungeon and the Lord Provost decided to—ah—”

“Make a little coin by renting them out for view,” Jameson grumbled. He examined another page. “So in July, MacGregor—Darrach—was conditionally pardoned, and the other two were moved to Calton weeks ago.”

“Aye, my lord,” Hugh said. “One hundred and three days have passed since the initial arrest.”

“Sir Hector, how was this missed?” Jameson boomed.

Sir Hector blustered. “I, ah, I cannot explain it, my lord. So many matters of immediate importance have come through my office this summer that—ah, something may have slipped.”

Listening, Ellison held her breath. Beside her, Corbie went still and silent. What had he done, she wondered. Had it been a mistake—or deliberate for some reason?

Jameson set down the papers, folded his hands, tapped his fingers. The men standing before him waited in silence.Tap, tap, tap,thenthudas the judge slapped a hand flat on the papers.

“We have all been sorely burdened with nonsense from the Crown,” he said. “Our offices have been inundated with requests and tasks far beyond the norm. The royal visit was confirmed only months ago, giving our civil and legal offices little time to prepare.”

“Very true, my lord,” Sir Hector said.

Tap, tap.Justice Jameson studied their faces, one by one.

Ellison watched intently, feeling proud of Ronan for following his staunch principles despite the risk. Yet she feared he would face unfair examination, especially with Corbie determined to take him down however he could.

She slid a glance at Corbie. The gleam in his narrowed eyes made her feel ill. He was set on destroying Ronan; he would turn this bid for justice sour if he could. Even knowing him much of her life, she had not seen the hidden darkness in his character. Perhaps she had not wanted to see it.

“Well,” Jameson said, “I do not have my red silks and my wig here today. I am making no decisions. This will need to go through the proper steps. I will take time to read the petition and study the question.”

“If I may, Your Honor,” Hugh said, “the law of 1701 states that a warrant of liberation must be granted within twenty-four hours of a petition for freedom.”

“I know damn well what the law states, Mr. Cameron!” he thundered. “But this court is closed tomorrow. The courts are also closed on Saturdays and Sundays. Any day the court is closed means an extension of a day. This royal visit has thrown the courts and all else into confusion. You will have an answer. Word will be sent to your office. Return when it is appropriate!”

“My lord,” Hugh said.

“Thank you, Lord Justice,” Sir Hector said.

“My lord,” Ronan said, nodding slightly.

“Darrach, remind me of your status. Explain your arrest and pardon.”

As the judge spoke, Ellison felt her heart sink. But Corbie gave a dry chuckle.

“Now it will be known,” he purred. She wanted to kick him.

“My lord,” Ronan said, “my friends and I were arrested at a tavern in Culross where we met one evening. Excise officers took us by force and accused us of something we did not do. I sent word to Hugh Cameron before we were taken to Edinburgh.”

“I have copies of all the papers in case of any questions.” Hugh handed a second packet to Jameson, who ripped it open to sift through the contents.

“The prisoners were displayed like animals. It was a decision of the Provost carried out by the Captain of the Castle. Not the courts. All for revenue.”

“It provided a goodly sum for the city to host the royal visit,” Sir Hector said.

The room went silent as the justice studied more pages. After a moment, Sir Hector looked over his shoulder at Ellison. He smiled.

Surprised, even startled by that tentative, almost apologetic, show of affection, she nodded to her father. She had not had a chance to see him since arriving last night. That little smile felt almost like a hug. Almost. Sir Hector was not given to such.

“Darrach, it is not noted in these papers that you are an advocate,” Jameson said.