Dazed, Torin moved to the kitchen nook and reached for one of Graeme’s wooden bowls. But he wanted to stay in that moment with his father and daughter. He wanted to set down roots and remain, and it took everything within him—every uneven breath, every stray thought, every beat of his pulse—to remember what was at stake and what he needed to do.
When he returned to the yard, he noticed that the sky had changed. The air was darker, threaded with static. Clouds had gathered overhead, consuming the stars and the sun and the moon. Torin shivered in alarm as he knelt.
“What’s happening?” he asked.
Hap’s eyes were on the sky as the wind began to blow, cold from the north. His long hair tangled over his face. “He knows.”
Torin froze again, his hand hovering over the remedy. “He knows what?”
“That you solved the riddle,” Hap replied.
Torin watched as the spirits in the yard retreated, hiding from the gale. They took cover, but Hap continued to stand beside him, unyielding, even as the wind tore the flowers from his hair.
The moment Torin touched the remedy, the world went quiet around him and he felt as if he were dreaming, cupping moonlight in his hands. He had never felt such peace, and he sighed. Gently, he transferred the cold salve to the bowl, but he stared at his hand, luminous in the growing storm.
“Hurry, my friend,” Hap urged. “Take off your shoes and run at my side. You’ll be faster with your toes and heels in the loam, and if we get there in time we can heal the trees before he arrives.”
Torin quickly untethered his boots. He gathered his bowl and followed Hap through the gate, but then he couldn’t resist glancing over his shoulder one final time.
He watched as the rain began to fall on Graeme’s cottage, and he found himself praying to the stone walls and the thatched roof and the wood door. . . . Hold fast against the storm. Keep them safe for me.
The house he had grown up in shimmered faintly, as if his prayer had strengthened it.
Only then did Torin turn and run barefoot at Hap’s side. They sped over the hills as the relentless wind grew stronger.
They ran together, in perfect stride, to the orchard.
Jack had waited until the entourage that greeted Sidra began to follow the northern road down to Kirstron. He had shifted his horse to the back of the group, as Adaira had told him to do. When the road bent southward, Adaira glanced over her shoulder to look at him and he withdrew from the retinue altogether, drawing his horse west, into the wilds.
He needed to speak with Kae again, and this would be the best time to do it.
Adaira had agreed, although she had seemed reluctant at first, only because he would be riding alone through the hills. But Sidra’s visit was crucial, and Adaira needed to be present for it. She had pricked her finger and gathered her blood into a small vial, giving it to him so he could unlock the cottage door. She had also given him a few instructions: Stay on deer trails through the wilds. Keep the mountains to your back to find the loch. Leave with plenty of time to return home before nightfall.
Letting his horse follow a winding trail through the heather, Jack felt both vulnerable and liberated to be riding the wilds alone. He paused on the rise of one summit and looked behind to ensure that the mountains were still at his back. The craggy heart of the west, just visible through the gloom, made him think of the Aithwood again. Jack had almost turned his horse south after greeting Sidra and her guards in the forest. He had been tempted to diverge from his plans and instead follow the trees down to Niall’s cottage.
He hadn’t, of course. He had been too anxious that Niall might turn him away, or perhaps even refuse to answer the door if he knocked. And Jack needed to see Kae. Ever since he had studied Iagan’s music, questions had been smoldering like coals in his mind.
He pressed onward.
Soon he recognized the trees that surrounded Loch Ivorra, then the cottage sitting quietly on its small island in the loch. He left his gelding hobbled beneath the trees and walked over the narrow bridge, noticing how still the water was on either side. He wondered how deep the loch ran, what spirits lived in its silt and moved through its cold shadows.
When he reached the door, he knocked to let Kae know he was about to enter. He took out the vial Adaira had given him, her blood staining the glass crimson, and put a drop on his fingertip.
Jack opened the door and stepped into the cottage.
Kae was waiting for him, standing a few paces away. She looked well rested and hale. Her wounds had fully healed, leaving behind traces of golden scars on her pale blue skin.
“Hello,” Jack said with an awkward wave. “Adaira’s not with me, but there’s something that’s been troubling me, and I think your memory may hold the answer, if you’d be willing to share it once again?”
Kae nodded and sat at the table. He took the chair across from hers.
“I need to see the moment when Iagan sang the hierarchy into being,” said Jack. “When his music cast a net of control over the spirits of the isle.”
Kae didn’t seem surprised, but there was suddenly an anxious aura about her, as if she knew the memory Jack wanted to see was a difficult one. But she stretched out her hand. He gently accepted it with his own.
Together, they plunged into a vivid torrent of her memories.
Kae was soaring over the isle when she heard the music. She felt it tug against her ribs, weaken her wings. She had to answer the summoning or risk being torn apart by its magic.
She found Iagan playing in the Aithwood beside the clan line, on the western side. The river was at his back. He was singing for the spirits of air, for the southern, western, eastern, and northern winds. They materialized and gathered in the forest, some begrudgingly but most with curiosity. Kae waited with them to see what the bard wanted, for Iagan hardly ever played for the good of the isle.
His song was beautiful at first, welcoming them. But it began to shift, and when it did, she felt the music creeping over her. There was a flare of pain in her wings and in her throat, as if she had swallowed a hook. She wanted to leave but couldn’t.
When Iagan crooned to Hinder, one of the most powerful spirits of the northern wind, Kae felt a flare of dismay. She watched as Hinder was forced to obey the ballad. He tore the wings from his body and laid them at Iagan’s feet beside the clan line, where they shone, crimson and gold, and bled into the grass.
Hinder crawled away and wept, so weak he couldn’t rise.