He was just about to slip out the window when a strong northern gust blasted against his face, howling into the room. He winced at the sharpness of its breath, even if there were no voices within it.
“Jack?”
He startled and turned to see Mirin standing on his thresh-old, a rushlight in her hand.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, looking to the open window beyond him.
The wind continued to hiss into the room, stirring the tapestry on the wall, overturning the books on the desk. Jack had no choice but to latch the shutters, which began to rattle again.
Perhaps he had only imagined the intruder. But the night had felt calm and still a moment ago.
Jack struggled to slow his breath, to blink away the wild gleam in his eyes. “I heard a noise at the window.”
Mirin’s gaze flickered to the shutters. A flash of silver caught the firelight at her hip, and Jack saw that she was wearing her enchanted dirk, sheathed at her waist.
“Did you see anything?” she asked in a wary tone.
“A shadow,” Jack replied. “But I couldn’t discern what it was. Is Frae …?” His voice trailed off.
“She’s in bed,” Mirin replied, but she exchanged a worried look with Jack.
They quietly walked into the main bedchamber. Mirin’s candle cast a ring of faint light into the room, gilding the tangles of Frae’s auburn hair as she slept.
Jack felt a pinch of relief and returned to the threshold. Mirin followed, long enough to whisper to him, “It must have been the wind.”
“Yes,” he said, but the doubt left a sour taste in his mouth. “Good-night, Mum.”
“Good-night, Jack,” Mirin said, shutting the door.
Jack climbed into his childhood bed. The blanket wrinkled beneath him. He forgot about Frae’s flowers until he heard them crinkle by his ear. He took them gently in his hand and closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that the night was serene, peaceful. But there was something else, lurking at the edges. Something sinister, waiting to rise.
He couldn’t sleep when he thought of it.
A spirit had come for his sister.
CHAPTER 5
Jack was up at dawn, anxious to locate Torin and tell the captain about the strange rattle at the shutters. He had every intention of sneaking away from Mirin’s croft before she woke, but it seemed his mother anticipated his attempt to do so. She was waiting for him in the common room, working at her loom, a pot of oats bubbling over the fire.
“Will you join us for breakfast?” she asked, keeping her focus on her weaving.
Jack hesitated. He was about to utter an excuse when the front door opened and in walked Frae with a burst of cold morning air. A basket of eggs hung on her arm, and she brightened at the sight of him.
“Good morning,” his sister said, and then she seemed to grow shy. She walked to the table and fidgeted with the teacups, trying her best not to look at him.
Jack couldn’t slip away. Not with Frae’s demure gaze and Mirin’s rigid stance, as if they both expected him to bolt and were furiously hoping he would remain.
He sat at the table and watched Frae’s smile widen.
“I made you some tea,” she said. Then she whispered, “You do like tea, don’t you?”
“I do,” Jack replied.
“Oh, good! Mum said you probably did now, being on the mainland, but we weren’t sure of it.” Frae took a mitt and unhinged the kettle from its hook over the fire and carefully poured Jack a cup of tea. He was baffled, taken off guard by how eager she was to serve. How confident Frae was, how easily she knew her way around the kitchen and the croft. He clearly remembered being eight and begrudging every single chore Mirin had set upon him, stomping and whining when he had to gather the eggs and set the table and wash the dishes afterward.
No wonder she had been so eager to give him up to the mainland.
“Thank you, Frae,” he said, taking the warm cup in his hands.
Frae set the kettle down and brought him a pitcher of cream and a pot of honey, then hurried to set the rest of the table, humming as she went. Mirin eventually joined them, carrying the cauldron of oats with her. She filled their bowls with parritch, and Frae finished her tasks by setting out bacon and mushrooms, boiled eggs, fruit, sliced bread, and a crock of butter.
It was a feast. Jack worried they had made it just for him.
Their first meal together was awkward. Mirin was quiet, as was Jack. Frae kept parting her lips as if she wanted to say something, but then, too nervous to speak it, filled her mouth with oats instead.
“Do you go to school in the city every day?” Jack asked his sister.
“No, just three days a week,” she said. “The other days I’m here with Mum, learning her craft.”
Jack’s gaze slid to Mirin. Mirin met it beneath her lashes, but her eyes were guarded. Their argument last night hung between them like gossamer.
“Have you seen Adaira yet?” Frae asked.
Jack nearly choked on his tea. He cleared his throat and attempted a smile. “I have, actually.”
“When did you see the heiress?” Mirin was the one to now cast an inquisitive glance at him, and Jack ignored it, reaching for a slice of bread.
“I saw her yesterday morning.”
“Were you friends with her?” Frae continued, as if Adaira were a spirit herself to be worshiped. “Before you left for school?”
Jack spread a hunk of butter on his bread. Mirin scowled at his excess. “I suppose you could say that.” He took a huge bite, hoping talk of Adaira would end.
But his mother continued to watch him closely, seeming to realize who, indeed, had asked him to return. He hadn’t studied Lorna’s ballad at all the night before, as he was supposed to have done, and he still felt a sting of worry when he imagined playing that eerie music.
“Will you eat supper with us tonight?” Mirin asked, breaking off his stormy thoughts. She cradled her teacup in her long fingers, breathing in the steam.
Jack nodded, noticing his mother had scarcely eaten a bite of her parritch.
“You’re probably very busy today, aren’t you?” Frae’s voice rose an octave, betraying how anxious she still was to speak to him.
Jack met her gaze. “I do have a few things to accomplish today. Why do you ask, Frae?”
“Nothing,” his sister blurted, and shoveled another spoonful of parritch in her mouth, blushing.
It was apparent she wanted to ask him something and was too afraid to voice it. Jack had only been a brother for less than a day in his mind, but he wanted her to feel comfortable enough to speak to him, to not be timid when she was with him. He realized he was frowning.
He softened his expression as he looked at Frae. “Is there something you need help with?”
Frae glanced at Mirin, who was staring at her parritch until she sighed, raising her eyes to Jack’s.
“No, Jack. But thank you for offering.”
Frae’s shoulders stooped. Jack sensed that his mother and sister were reluctant to ask him to do anything. Chagrined, he decided he would have to unearth their needs another way. Without asking or making them ask.
Frae rose from the table first. Gathering the empty dishes, she carried them to the wash barrel. When Mirin made to rise and join her, Jack surprised himself by taking the bowl right out of her hands.