Adaira stiffened, her face blanching. “What do you mean they took him?”
Sidra explained as well as she could, giving Adaira the pieces of information she had inferred. But she instantly regretted saying that Torin could be gone for years. Adaira looked like she had been pierced. She leaned on her knees, hand over her mouth, eyes gleaming with horror.
“I know you’re going to worry about him,” Sidra said, “but I don’t want you to, and neither would he. There’s a chance he could be home much sooner than I anticipate. So please, Adi, don’t let this upset you.”
Adaira was quiet for a long moment. Her fingers drifted from her lips as she whispered, “Sid. I’m so sorry.”
Sidra nodded, trying to melt the frost that crept over her. The chill that often kept her up at night, staring into the darkness and shivering as she tried to imagine the rest of her life without Torin. If the blight didn’t kill her, heartbreak was likely to send her to an early grave.
But she didn’t want to give those thoughts power. She cast them aside, focusing on Adaira.
“Tell me how things have been for you here,” she said.
Adaira sat back with a sigh. “Well, they’ve been interesting, to say the least.”
As Sidra listened, Adaira told her bits and pieces of her life in the west. The shadows continued to deepen as she talked, even though it was only midafternoon. Eventually, Adaira rose to light the candles around the room, glancing anxiously at the window.
“I need to tell you about what to expect tonight, Sid,” she said, returning to her stool. “Innes has invited the thanes and their heirs to dine in the hall tonight, and she would like you to join us as well, so she can introduce you and explain why you’re here.”
At once, Sidra felt a cold sting of shock in her side. She heard Moray’s voice again in her memory, as if he were haunting her. Every month, my parents call their thanes and their heirs into the castle hall for a feast. It’s a dangerous, unpredictable night, because there’s always a thane or two who is scheming to take the rulership.
Adaira was explaining about the dangers of Aethyn and the preventative doses. Sidra had completely tuned her out, but she made herself focus again and listen more closely. When Adaira held out her palm, displaying a vial full of clear liquid, Sidra had to swallow down the bile that was beginning to surge up her throat.
“What is this, Adi?”
“It’s a dose of Aethyn,” Adaira replied. “In light of the risks of dinner with the nobility, both Innes and David wanted me to ask you to take it.”
Sidra stared at the poison. Her gaze eventually drifted upwards to meet Adaira’s. “Are you and Jack taking it?”
Adaira hesitated. “Jack says he can’t. I’m still considering another dose. But I also should warn you that the side effects are terrible.”
“And what are the side effects?”
Adaira began to describe them. Sidra realized that Adaira knew them only because she had experienced them herself, a thought that made Sidra’s heart ache. To imagine Adaira alone and in pain, feeling like she had no choice but to drink poison.
“I won’t blame you if you decline,” Adaira concluded. “But do you want to consider it?”
Sidra was silent as she stood. She reached out to take the vial, holding it up to the firelight. “There’s honestly no question about it, Adi.”
“So you’ll drink it?”
“No. I can’t,” Sidra said, her heart quickening. “I’m pregnant.”
Adaira froze, but then a broad smile broke across her face. “Sidra!”
“Don’t fuss over me, Adi.”
Adaira ignored her, embracing Sidra so tightly that she couldn’t breathe. But all the emotion she had kept in check suddenly welled up in her chest. She clung to Adaira, blinking away tears, and the sound of her friend’s joyous laughter went through her like sunlight.
Everything will be all right, she thought. I’m going to be all right. The baby will be all right.
It was strange, Sidra thought, how being around Adaira made her feel that way. All those previous worries felt small and thin. The days ahead felt brighter, warmer, like an endless summer.
“I’m so thrilled for you,” Adaira said, leaning back. “You have no idea how much I needed good news.”
“Torin and I are happy to oblige,” Sidra replied.
“He must be ecstatic.”
“He doesn’t know yet.”
Adaira’s smile faded. That pained expression stole over her face again.
“But,” Sidra rushed to add, “he’ll be very happy to know it when he returns.”
“Yes, he will.”
A loud peal of thunder interrupted them. Sidra startled, feeling the castle rumble beneath her feet. Adaira glanced at the window again. She was worried, and Sidra surmised that her concern might have something to do with Jack.
“I need to go,” Adaira said. “But I’ll come for you when it’s time for the feast.”
Sidra nodded. She walked Adaira to the door and watched her leave before asking her guards to step inside.
Blair and the others—Mairead, Keiren, and Sheena—gathered around her. The tension was rolling off them like notes from a harp string. Far too much seemed to be out of their control—the weather, the blight, the Breccans, the possibility of being poisoned at dinner.
“What is it, Laird?” Blair asked her gently.
Sidra sighed as she opened her fist, finger by finger, to reveal the vial of Aethyn. She gazed at it, her mind teeming with thoughts. She couldn’t take the dose, nor would her guards. But she also wouldn’t partake in a dinner that would put herself and her child at risk.
She thought about all the western flora she had seen in David’s herbarium. She thought of all the flora she had brought with her from the east. She inwardly retraced the years she had spent handling plant after plant, from the vengeful to the docile, bringing out their essence to heal and to mend.
She wasn’t afraid of poison. And she wouldn’t bow to it.
Sidra looked at her guards, her heart steady. “I need to ask something terrible of you.”
Torin needed a bowl. Something to carry the remedy in, as he wasn’t strong enough to tote around the hollow-hearted rock. Frantic, he rushed through the door of Graeme’s cottage and was surprised to find his father reading a story to Maisie.
Torin froze as though he had been caught in a web. He watched Maisie smile, listening to Graeme as he read to her. His voice was like a deep rumble of thunder, but comforting and steady. The firelight washed over their faces, and Torin realized it must be evening in the mortal realm. And if Maisie was here . . . where was Sidra?
“Torin!” Hap called from the garden beyond the door. “We don’t have much time!”