“Don’t cry, Mummy,” Maisie said, patting her shoulder.
Sidra wept even harder.
The girls returned home on a blue sky day.
The southern wind was warm and gentle, and the wildflowers bloomed in the fullness of the rising sun. The heather danced on the breeze with violet abandon. The tide was low on the shores, the lochs glistened, and the rivers flowed. The hills were quiet, and the roads were like threads of gold in a green plaid as Adaira rode with the guard, bringing Catriona home to her parents on the coast, and Annabel home to her parents in the vale.
She sat on her horse and watched with a smile as the families were reunited. There were many tears and kisses and much laughter, and Adaira felt a weight slip from her shoulders. This is how it should be, and she hoped the isle would find balance once more.
The parents thanked the guard for bringing their daughters home safely, but they didn’t even glance at Adaira. It was as though she had already departed from the east, and Adaira tried to swallow the hurt she felt. She reminded herself that, if not for her, the lasses would have never been stolen to begin with. In some deep way, she faulted herself for the pain of the clan, even though she hadn’t known the truth.
She wondered if Alastair and Lorna ever planned to reveal to her who she truly was. Part of her thought not, since they had carried the secret to their graves. Adaira tried to cast away the feelings of betrayal and sadness. Today was a day when she needed to be as composed as one of Jack’s ballads. She needed to follow the notes she had laid down for herself without emotion getting the best of her.
The guards escorted her back to the castle. She had until noontide to restore order, officially pass the lairdship to Torin, and pack. Innes was to meet her by Mirin’s river, and the exchange would then be complete.
Adaira stood in her chamber, inwardly lost. She glanced at the bed, unmade and rumpled from her lovemaking with Jack. The window was still open, the breeze sighing into the room. Though she didn’t know what to take with her, she slowly began to pack a leather bag. A few dresses, a few books. She was halfway done when a knock sounded on her door.
“Come in.”
Torin stepped inside, trailed by Sidra and Maisie.
Adaira dropped her bag as Maisie dashed to her. She had seen Maisie briefly when the girls were returned, but now Adaira had the chance to scoop her up in an embrace, warmed by how fiercely Maisie held to her, as if she didn’t care who Adaira was now. Maisie’s arms wrapped about her neck, healing a fracture in Adaira’s heart.
“Maisie!” Adaira said with a smile. “The bravest lass in all the east!”
Maisie smiled, loosening her hold a bit. But her excitement faded when she said, “Mummy says you have to go away.”
Adaira’s smile froze on her face. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“To the west?”
Adaira glanced at Sidra and Torin, neither of whom offered any guidance on how she should answer. They were all taking this hour by hour, moment by moment. None of them knew what the girls had experienced in the west, even though they appeared to have been treated gently. “Yes, Maisie. So I need you to look after your mum and da for me while I’m gone. Can you do that?”
Maisie nodded. “I have something for you.” Her little hand shot out to Torin, and he set a battered, coverless book on her palm.
“What’s this?” Adaira asked in a hushed tone.
“Stories,” Maisie said. “About the spirits.”
“Did you write them, Maisie?”
“It was Joan Tamerlaine’s book,” Torin said, drawing Adaira’s eyes. “My father gave it to me, and we thought … we want to give it to you. He claims the other half is in the west. Perhaps you will find it there?”
Adaira nodded, suddenly overcome. She hugged Maisie close and kissed her cheeks. “Thank you for the book. I will read it every night.”
“Elspeth will like the stories too,” Maisie said, wiggling.
Adaira released her, wondering who Elspeth was. But she didn’t ask, and Sidra stepped forward next with a handful of vials.
“For wounds,” she began, holding up a glass brimming with dried herbs. “For sleep.” Sidra held up another. “For your headaches. And for cramps.”
Adaira smiled, accepting all four. “Thank you, Sid.”
“If there’s anything else you need while you’re there,” Sidra said, “let me know and I’ll send it to you.”
“I will.”
Sidra embraced her, just as fiercely as Maisie had, and it was all Adaira could do not to cry.
“The clan is gathering in the hall for the announcement,” Torin said, clearing his throat. “I’ll wait for you there.”
Adaira nodded as Sidra released her to gather Maisie in her arms. The girl waved to Adaira just before they slipped out the door, and Adaira was thankful for the silence again. Holding the broken book and the herbs, she cried.
She was wiping her tears, setting the gifts into her bag, when she heard the unmistakable click of a wall panel opening. She stiffened. She had left Jack at Mirin’s, thinking he needed to be with his mother and sister in the wake of the Breccans’ invasion of their home.
“Jack?” she said, afraid to turn and see that it might not be him.
“Should I bring the old, twisted harp or not?” his voice sounded, wryly.
Adaira spun to see him holding a bag. “What are you doing?”
Jack stepped into her room, shutting the secret door behind him. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m coming with you.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she protested, even as her heart softened in relief.
He walked across the floor to reach her, eventually coming to a stop when only a breath was between them. “But I want to, Adaira.”
“What of your mother? What of Frae?” she whispered.
“They’re both strong and shrewd and have lived a number of years just fine without me,” he said, holding her gaze. “I’ll miss them while we’re away, but I’m not bound to them. I belong to you.”
Adaira sighed. She wanted him to come with her, but she also had a strange, restless feeling about it. Something she couldn’t name, echoing like a warning in her mind.
“You think you’re dragging me away from a life here,” he said, tracing her jaw with his fingertips, “but you forget that the west is also mine by half.”
His father was there, Adaira reminded herself. Jack had roots on the other side of the clan line, just as she did. Of course, he would want to explore them.
“All right,” she breathed. “You can come.”
Jack’s smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, and she thought he had never seemed brighter. She saw a flicker of light in him, like a flame burning in a dark night, just as his lips found hers.
The hall was overflowing, waiting for her.
Adaira didn’t want to draw this out. She wanted to say her piece and leave, and she hoped the Tamerlaines would listen to her now that the girls had been safely returned and Moray Breccan was shackled beneath their feet.
Torin waited for her on the dais. She walked to her cousin, Jack close behind her. She stood at Torin’s side and surveyed the sea of faces who watched her.
“My good people of the east,” Adaira began in a wavering tone. “The story you heard on the wind is true. I was born to the Laird of the West but was brought in secret to the east as a bairn. Alastair and Lorna raised me as their own, and I didn’t know the truth of my heritage until Moray Breccan revealed it to me yesterday.