“Neither did I.”
Adaira fell quiet. Her back was still pressed against his, and he felt her draw a deep breath.
“Jack? Could you play my mum’s ballad to summon the spirits of the earth?”
He went rigid. “Your mum composed a ballad for earth?”
“Yes.”
“And what of fire and wind?”
“She never composed music for them. At least, not to mine or my father’s knowledge.”
Jack was silent. He stared at the foaming water surrounding them, at the harp in his hands, at the bloodstain on his plaid. He didn’t know how to tell Adaira what he was feeling—about his overwhelming sense of wonder, fear, intensity, and agony. To play for the spirits, to have been found worthy. To sense the power that hid in his hands and his voice. Even now, the lingering heat of magic still coursed through him.
It was a dangerous feeling. He wondered how quickly his vitality would wane.
It was also apparent that Alastair had failed to inform Adaira of the cost. Or perhaps Adaira simply didn’t know. She didn’t know her mother’s health had been stolen, bit by bit, every time she played for the folk. Lorna’s untimely death had come from an accident five years ago. A fall from a horse, not a slow wasting sickness fueled by wielding magic. But her fate—had she lived out her years singing for the spirits—now hung like a constellation in the sky, and Jack could read it clearly.
To be the Bard of the East was an honor, but it came with a terrible cost. And Jack didn’t know if he was strong enough to pay it.
“The folk have to know where the lasses are, which spirit is offended and hiding them,” Adaira said, speaking her thoughts aloud. “They see nearly everything. The answers must rest with them. And if the water spirits have had their mouths sealed from speaking truth … we need to summon and speak to the others. But what do you think?”
“I think that’s our next step,” Jack agreed. He didn’t say out loud what he and Adaira had both realized, although he knew she was thinking it too. If the earth spirits couldn’t help them, he would have to compose a ballad for wind. He had no idea what that would do to him. “I’ll need time to study your mum’s music.”
I’ll need time to recover from this.
“Come to the castle later today,” she said. “And I will give it to you.”
They sat in companionable silence for a while longer on the rock, until the moon had started to set and the tides had calmed.
Adaira eventually slipped into the water and swam around the rock to look up at him. “Are you going to sit there all night, bard?”
He tensed, hearing the mirth in her voice. “I don’t think it’s wise to swim in the sea at night.” He nearly added that this was not just a mainland opinion, for the ocean was never safe. But Jack suppressed those words, thinking Adaira would wield anything mainland against him.
“So do you plan to sit there all night?” she asked.
“Until the tide goes down, yes,” said Jack.
“Which is at dawn, you know.”
He ignored her and the taunting invitation to join her in the water, holding his harp close. His gaze wandered up to the sky, seeking to read the time. But from the corner of his eye, he watched her as she continued to bob in the waves, waiting for him. And then she was gone, vanishing beneath the dark surface. Jack’s full attention returned to where she had been wading.
He waited for her to resurface, watching the mesmerizing roll of the sea. But Adaira remained beneath the water, and Jack panicked.
“Adaira,” he called to her, but the wind stole her name right from his mouth. “Adaira!”
There was no answer, no sign of her anywhere. Soon, his eyes ached from peeling the darkness and from the glimmer of waves. Half of him knew she was toying with him, but half of him was terrified a spirit had come to claim her and was holding her down beneath the surface.
He jumped into the water, one arm holding the instrument tight to his chest, the other searching frantically for her. His hand cut through the cold whirl of the tide. He knew as soon as their fingers entwined that she had been waiting for him, lurking like a patient predator. She had known he would come after her, and as he broke the surface with her, he was relieved and angry and a tiny bit amused.
He said nothing at first. The water dripped from his hair, and he glared when she smiled, when she laughed. His traitorous heart skipped at the sound.
“Go on,” he said. “Take delight in my surrender.”
“You should be thanking me. I just saved you from a long night perched on a rock.” She slipped her fingers from his and splashed him in the face as she swam away.
Jack reached to snag her ankle, but Adaira evaded him. He couldn’t catch her. She swam just ahead of him, leading him to the coastal path. After a moment, she turned to glide backwards, beholding his face.
“You’ve grown slow in the water, Jack.”
He said nothing, because the music for the spirits had drained him. Let her blame his weak swimming on the mainland.
He followed her to where the path cut up through the rocks. Adaira pulled herself from the sea, elegant despite her drenched clothes. Jack remained in the water, waiting for her to turn and look at him.
He extended his hand; he didn’t know if he was strong enough to climb out without her assistance. “Are you going to help me up?”
Adaira unwound her matted braid and laughed again. “Do you think I was born yesterday?”
She gave him a terrible idea. He almost smiled.
“Then will you at least take my harp? It’s going to warp now, after all this time in the water.” He held up his instrument, and Adaira studied it. Jack concealed his glee as she reached forward to take hold of his harp.
As soon as her fingers closed over the frame, he pulled. Adaira let out a shriek as she tumbled into the sea, just over his head. He couldn’t resist it; a broad grin spread across his face as Adaira spluttered to the surface.
“You will soon pay for that,” she said, wiping the water from her eyes. “Old menace.”
“I have no doubt,” he replied in a droll tone. “What will it be, heiress? Tar and feathers? The stocks? My firstborn son?”
She stared at him a moment, pearls of water on her long lashes. The sea lapped at their shoulders, and Jack could feel her fingers brush his as they both waded in the roll of the waves.
“I can think of something far worse.” But she smiled when she said it, and he had never seen such a smile on her face before. Or maybe he had once, long ago when they were children.
She was making him remember those old days. Days spent in the sea and the caves. Nights spent roaming the wild places, the thistle patches and the glens and the rocks on the coast. She was making him remember what it felt like to belong on the isle. To belong to the east.
She wanted him to stay and play for their clan, and Jack was beginning to think that maybe he should seize that opportunity, even if it stole his health, song by song.
Just for a year. A full passing of seasons. Long enough to see her rise as laird.
He drew a tendril of golden algae from her hair and begrudgingly acknowledged it then.
He disliked her a little less than he had yesterday.
And that could only bring him trouble.