It still wasn’t enough. When she struck him across the face, she had felt his blood splatter across her cheeks and stain her knuckles. Only then did she let him go, but not before she had ordered him to return everything that he had stolen from Jack.
She had watched him canter off into the night, while the grooms, awed, or perhaps shocked, whispered around her. She had been a meek and easily overlooked presence in the stables until that moment. She bent down to collect the jewels she had made.
Now Adaira paused in the morning light, staring down at her hands, beaded with water.
She didn’t know what Innes and David would think of her “warning” to Rab. She herself hardly knew where it had come from, but it seemed a natural response. One coming from a side of her that had been suppressed for so long that she hadn’t even been aware of its existence.
A knock on her door broke the moment. She dried her hands and strode across the room, noting that Jack was stirring.
“Stay in bed, old menace,” she told him, just as he sat up with tousled hair.
Jack only frowned at her, his eyes still heavy with sleep. Adaira answered the door and thanked the servant who had brought breakfast. She took the tray and carried it to the bed, gently setting it down on the mattress.
“And what is this?” Jack said, his voice smoky from dreams. “Breakfast in bed?”
Adaira grinned, easing her way onto the mattress. “You had a rough go yesterday. This is the least I could do.”
Jack returned the smile and took up the steaming teapot. He poured two cups, and when Adaira reached over to take one, he stopped her, as if the entire tray was his.
“Where’s your breakfast?” he teased.
Adaira’s mouth fell open, but she enjoyed his banter. “Must I beg you to feed me then?”
“Oh, I’d love nothing more than to feed you,” Jack said, taking in her wild hair and rumpled chemise. Adaira’s toes curled beneath the blankets, but before she could scrounge up a good enough retort, he continued. “What would you like to start with? Tea or parritch?”
“Tea,” she said, accepting the cup he finally gave her.
She stirred in some honey and a splash of cream, and they sat against the headboard, enjoying their tea in companionable silence. Eventually, Adaira glanced sidelong at Jack, brimming with questions.
“How are Mirin and Frae?” she asked.
“They’re both doing well. Frae especially wanted me to give you a hug for her.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I miss them,” Adaira said, tracing the rim of her cup. “And Sidra and Torin?”
Jack paused, and Adaira had a spasm of panic.
“What is it?” she demanded. “Are they all right? Did something happen?”
“They’re both fine,” Jack rushed to reassure her. “But something has happened, and I need to tell you about it.”
Adaira listened as he told her about the blight. She felt frozen by shock over what Jack was telling her, the tea forgotten in her hand. He told her how the illness was being passed to humans, how he had tried to play for the orchard to find answers. How Bane had interrupted him and struck a tree—the snippet of Kae’s memory that Adaira had seen—and how Torin was at his wit’s end about what to do.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Adaira said when Jack had fallen quiet. “I should write to him. And Sidra too.”
“Well, that brings me to my next point,” Jack said with a sigh. “Torin is trying to contain the news of the blight in the east, but I noticed that it’s in the west as well.”
Adaira frowned. “Where?”
“In the Aithwood. I passed a sickened tree after I had crossed over.”
“My parents haven’t mentioned anything about this,” she said. “Nor has anyone else.”
Jack regarded her gravely. “Then there’s a chance that it has just spread to the west. Or that your parents know about the blight and are keeping it secret.”
The latter possibility seemed most likely. As Jack fixed them each a bowl of parritch, Adaira thought about how she could initiate such a conversation with Innes. Would Innes be at all open to discussing such a sensitive matter with her?
“So Torin doesn’t want the Breccans to know the east is sick?” Adaira said, taking the bowl from Jack. He had put an ample helping of berries and cream on top, and she took her spoon and stirred it together.
“Yes,” Jack replied. “But that was before I knew the west is also suffering. Which Torin still isn’t aware of. I think that’ll change his mind.”
“Hmm.” Adaira leaned forward to refill her teacup. The chemise slipped from her shoulder, down to her elbow.
“What’s this?” Jack’s voice was sharp.
“What? You want to take all the tea again?” she countered, not sure what he was talking about until she saw that he was gazing at her exposed arm and the line of stitches that held her wound together. “Oh. That. It’s nothing.”
But Jack was tracing it with his fingertip, his eyes dark and gleaming as he studied the stitches.
“It doesn’t look like nothing,” he said. “Who did this to you?”
“It was an accident.”
“By whose hand?”
“David,” Adaira replied. “We were sparring in the rain.” She regretted the words as soon as she uttered them. They conjured images of Jack and his father in the arena. Adaira could see the same thought crossing Jack’s mind as his expression turned inward, as if he were trying to shutter his emotions.
Adaira set aside her parritch.
“I want to free him,” she said. “By all accounts, he should be. He’s won enough rounds in the culling to be liberated.”
“Innes doesn’t want him to be accepted back into the clan,” Jack said in a careful tone. “I understand her reasoning, given what Niall did.”
“I’ll speak to her,” Adaira promised.
They finished their breakfast in a stilted silence. Finally, Adaira could think of no better way to break the somber mood than with a ride across the wilds.
“The day is getting away from us,” she said, approaching her wardrobe. She let her chemise fall to the floor, feeling Jack’s gaze on her skin. Glancing over her shoulder, Adaira met his stare boldly. “Get dressed, Jack. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
All of the west felt like a graveyard, full of hungry, languishing spirits. Torin stepped mindfully, but he still managed to draw far too much attention. The ferlies in the grass trailed him, licking their lips. The heather shivered when he passed, and the rocks refused to give way to him. The earth spirits here were suspicious of him, and Torin didn’t know what else to do but be careful and to keep his eyes peeled for both Adaira and the Orenna flower.
He eventually came to a river—he wondered if it was the same river that flowed into the heart of the Aithwood and on to the east—and was just about to cross it when a spirit rose up from the water with a snarl.