No, I can’t. Not yet.
Sometimes she couldn’t sleep at night, and in those silent hours she would worry over her child. She didn’t know if the blight would affect the baby growing inside her. Eventually, it might, given its creeping power. But even if the blight never touched her child, she didn’t know if the herbs she had previously taken had already done so. It was too much to think about, though, when she was lying in the dark those sleepless nights, wide-eyed and lonely and heavy hearted.
She sighed with relief to reach Graeme’s gate and slipped her hand from Blair’s arm.
“I’ll wait here for you,” he said.
Sidra thanked him and found Graeme inside the cottage, reading a thick mainland tome by the hearth.
“Sidra?” he greeted her, surprised. He stood and removed his spectacles. “Did you need me to watch Maisie?”
“No, she’s with the castle care keeper today,” Sidra said. “I need your advice. Another man has been lost beneath my watch, and I don’t know what to do.”
“This calls for some tea then. And some oatcakes and jam. Here, sit down, why don’t you?”
Graeme was always trying to feed her. Sidra could only stomach certain foods, but thankfully one of them was oatcakes. She let Graeme set out a spread of tea and cakes, even though she wasn’t the least bit hungry.
“Now, which man has been lost?” he asked as he sat across the table from her.
“Moray Breccan.”
Graeme didn’t respond for a full three seconds. “All right,” he said, sounding slightly dazed. “And how did he escape the dungeons?”
“The other day he wanted to speak with me,” Sidra said, staring down at her tea. “I visited him in the dungeons. He asked if he could write a letter to Adaira. I told him no. When the night shift arrived, he asked one of the guards for a quill, ink, and parchment, so he could write a letter. The guard provided him with the materials, not realizing I had denied this request, and Moray used the quill as a weapon, stabbing the guard in the neck. From there, he got the keys and killed four more guards with the dirk he stole. Yvaine believes he disguised himself as a guard and slipped out of Sloane, because when the next shift found the guards’ bodies, one of them was completely unclothed. That was when they alerted Yvaine to his escape.”
Graeme rubbed his chin. “I take it the search for him is underway?”
“Yes. Yvaine and the guards are combing through the hills, searching storehouses, crofts, caves. He’s unfortunately well acquainted with the east, given all the times he roamed it before. But I . . .” Sidra paused, briefly closing her eyes. “I’m worried he’s going to do something horrible. To strike back at me in some way. To hurt the clan.”
“You think he’d try to harm someone innocent here?”
“I think he would. He already has.”
“And what advice can I give you, Sidra?”
“What do I do if I never recover him?” she asked. “What do I do if he’s found? How do I punish him for killing five of my guards? Do I shackle him again and extend his sentence? One that inadvertently affects Adaira in the west and will keep her away from us for an even longer period? Do I have him executed? Do I write and ask Innes Breccan what she’d prefer for her heir? Everyone is looking to me for wisdom and a plan of action, and I’m at a complete and utter loss.”
“Sidra,” Graeme said gently.
She quieted, but her heart was pounding. She took a sip of tea to mask the sour tang in her mouth.
“You said he wanted to write a letter to Adaira?” he said.
“Yes.”
“I think you have your answer then.”
Sidra waited, brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think you have to worry about what you’re going to do to Moray when you find him,” Graeme replied, “for the simple fact that he’s not in the east. He’s long gone by now.”
Sidra didn’t want to think of that possibility. The east couldn’t afford to lose Moray. But the longer she looked at Graeme and the wistful gleam in his eyes, she knew he was right.
Graeme was the one to say it, though. Because Sidra couldn’t bear to.
“I think Moray has gone home to be with his sister.”
Chapter 26
Adaira woke entwined with Jack. His arm was draped over her, and his breaths were heavy with dreams. One of her legs was caught between his, and for a moment Adaira simply rested in the solid warmth of him, letting herself slowly come awake.
She watched as dawn began to stain the windows, a blush of gray light. She thought about how lonely she had felt waking every morning in a bed far too big for her. How she would think of Jack and let herself long for him.
She still couldn’t believe he was here.
She shivered, but not from the cold.
Adaira slipped from the bed, careful not to wake Jack. She quietly opened the door to ask an attendant to bring up a breakfast tray, and then she stirred the fire in the hearth. She was admiring the dance of the flames when she stepped on something hard and cold.
Frowning, Adaira glanced down to see a small blue gemstone.
She had completely forgotten about Rab’s poisoned blood, and the crystals she had carried in her palm the night before. She knelt and gathered up the scattered jewels, carried them to her bureau, and set them in an empty bowl. Then she went about her morning ablutions, but she kept seeing Rab in her thoughts.
She had caught him in the stables, preparing to mount his horse and flee home. But once she called his name, he had paused, unwilling to look like a coward before her and the grooms, who were drawn to watch the altercation.
Adaira had found Jack’s half coin tucked away in Rab’s pocket, the confirmation she needed. She set her dose of Aethyn in his hands, commanding him to drink it. Then she had waited for its effects to take root, uncertain how severe they would be for him and whether he was already dosing himself.
As she had thought, he wasn’t greatly affected by it. Chances were good that, as a thane’s son, he had been imbibing the poison for years. She had taken the dirk from his belt, so that she wouldn’t have to unsheathe her own sword, and drawn the pointed blade down his cheek, cutting it open. She watched him flinch and hiss in pain.
“Let this scar remind you of your foolishness,” she had said as his blood flowed down his face, dripping onto the hay. Transforming into blue jewels. “Let this scar remind you not to touch those I love ever again, or my next judgment won’t be so merciful. Do you understand, Rab?”
“I understand, Cora,” he rasped.