He smiled, thinking that this was as close to the past as they could get. He remembered the night he had first sung for the spirits of the sea, when he and Adaira had been stranded on Kelpie Rock. Then as now, she had enticed him to follow her into the water, even though he had been terrified of the ocean.
Jack stripped, leaving his garments beside hers. He carefully took his first step into the water. It was warmer than he had imagined, and he had to stifle a groan as he sank into it up to his shoulders.
That was when he realized Adaira had disappeared. He frowned as his eyes searched for her in the dark stretch of water, the hiss of steam, the diamonds of firelight.
“Adaira?” he called, his voice echoing off the stone ceiling. He swam deeper, even though it made his stomach knot to drift so far from the safety of the steps and the fire. “Adaira!”
Something brushed his legs. He shrieked a curse and flailed, swallowing a mouthful of water. Adaira rose to the surface before him like some bewitching creature of the deep, eyes burning with mirth and hair shining like starlight.
Jack glowered at her, even when she offered him a smile he had never seen before. One that was sharp enough to cut him should he dare to kiss it.
“Have you no care for my well-being?” he said dryly.
“Oh, I care for it, but I also promised you a punishment,” she replied, swimming backward into the dark reaches of the water.
“I must confess, Adaira, that I thought your punishment would be of a different kind,” Jack said, watching her drift away from him.
“And so it will be, but first I must draw you this way, Bard, so the others won’t be able to hear us.”
He would dare to follow her for that reason alone, leaving behind the reassurance of slick stone beneath his toes, but still he hesitated, watching Adaira glide even farther away.
“Come with me, Jack.” He could hear her whisper on the water, in the steam. “Come into the darkness, come into the deep with me.”
He thought she might be trying to kill him, and yet he followed her, keen to reach out and touch her. That inspired her laughter, to see him treading the water with the splashing grace of a cow. But soon they had swum far enough away that the torchlight no longer limned them. There Jack paused, treading the warm water.
“I can’t see you, Adaira,” he rasped.
He heard a gentle splash, then startled when he felt her hand touch his arm, her fingers interlocking with his.
“Just a little bit farther,” she said, tugging on him. “We’re almost there.”
Soon Jack saw where she was taking them. There was a crack in a stone wall, and firelight seeped out from it, beckoning them closer. He followed Adaira into the small chamber, relieved to find a torch burning on the wall and rock beneath his feet. The water, blissfully warm and clear, was waist deep, and two ledges were hewn into the stone, forming benches just beneath the surface.
Thankful, Jack sat on one and leaned back against the stone wall.
Adaira perched on the ledge directly across from his.
“How did you ever find this place?” he asked. “And who in their right mind swims with a torch all the way out here?”
“The torch never burns out,” she replied, glancing up at it. “At least, it has always been burning when I’ve come here. I discovered this place by accident. One day, weeks ago, I came down to the cistern for a swim. I always remain close to the stairs and the door, as my parents prefer. But on that day, I decided to tread as far as I dared, to see if this water would lead me somewhere else.” She paused, gazing at her pruned fingertips. “Then I saw this light shining on the water, and it drew me closer, leading me to this secret place.”
Jack studied the small cavern again. It certainly was an intimate place, and he knew precisely what it was used for.
As if she had read his mind, Adaira said, “Of course, I often came here and thought of you.”
His gaze sharpened on her. Her skin was rosy from the heat, her eyes luminous. Strands of her hair floated outward, like gossamer on the water.
“And what, exactly, did you think of?” he asked.
Adaira smiled. “I thought about what a miracle it would be to get you to this little cavern, about how you would flail and protest and nearly drown yourself on the swim here.”
Jack splashed her in the face, and she only laughed, wiping the water from her eyes.
“Then your imaginings have been accurate,” he said, “but only to an extent.”
“Yes,” she agreed, meeting his gaze again. “I actually thought about many things when I sat here alone.”
Her voice had shifted. She was no longer teasing him, and Jack felt the mood change. There was something on her mind, weighing her down.
“What else did you think of?” he asked gently.
“I thought about my fears,” she said. “How every day I woke up in the west I was afraid. I think because I often felt like a stranger. Like I was losing myself or forgetting who I was. And so I would come here to swim in the warm darkness, even though it terrified me, and tell myself, If I go deep enough, far enough, I will eventually find the edge of it. I will find the end.”
Adaira paused, rolling her lips together. Water beaded on her face, gleaming like small gemstones. “I would find the end of my fear or finally claim it and turn it into something else. But I discovered that I could swim to the edge of the mortal realm and still be afraid.”
“Give your fear a name,” Jack said, remembering that Adaira had once said this very thing to Torin. “Once it is named, it is understood, and it loses its power over you.”
She looked to the opening of the cavern, where the world beyond was quiet and shadowed. “I’m afraid to become the next Laird of the West.”
Jack exhaled. He had been wondering about that for days now, and especially after witnessing the events in the hall that evening, from Rab Pierce’s treachery to Adaira’s words to the nobility, abandoned swords gleaming at her feet.
Jack couldn’t help but envision her with a western crown.
“You don’t want to be their heiress?”
Her eyes returned to his, wide and dark. “No. After what transpired with the Tamerlaines, no. I don’t want to lead a clan. I don’t want to carry such a burden.”
“And I don’t fault you for it,” Jack said. “The Tamerlaines acted shamefully when you departed for the west. I’m sorry you had to experience it.”
“It’s not your fault, Jack,” she whispered. “But now I’m in the strange position of needing to tell my parents that I am not the one to lead after them. And I want to have a plan in place, I want to be doing something. I just don’t know what it is.”
Jack was quiet as he considered how to respond to her.