“What does Torin think?”
Adaira hesitated a beat. “I’m not sure yet. But he did mention something odd to Jack during the raid. Torin felt only five Breccans crossing the clan line, but Jack counted twice as many, riding past the valley by Mirin’s croft. It’s apparent that they have some secret way of crossing over now. Five of them drew the watchmen, the guard, and Torin to the Elliotts’， while the rest of them clandestinely crossed farther down the territory boundary and dropped Eliza off.”
Sidra felt a strange tug in her chest to think that the enchantment in Torin’s scar might have been fooling him.
“The raid last night was a power play, but I also believe it was a diversion,” Adaira continued. “The Breccans used it to send one of the lasses back home to us.”
“Why would they reveal their hand?” Sidra asked. “Why not stay silent and continue to steal our girls? Why are they taking our children to begin with?”
Adaira sighed, as if she had been haunted by these very thoughts all morning. “I’m not sure, but I think it’s a clear sign that the Breccans don’t want peace. They want me to strike back and incite a war. I have no choice but to prepare for it now, although I must be very careful. I don’t have irrefutable proof they have the lasses, even though Eliza’s appearance after the raid is remarkable. I need to procure proof another way, and then I think we will need to get the girls safely home before any sort of open conflict happens.”
“Yes,” Sidra whispered. The safety of the girls was of the utmost importance. She didn’t dare to hope—it felt far too fragile these days—but she wanted to embrace the comfort of Maisie returning home soon. The vision nearly brought Sidra to her knees, and she blinked it away before her emotions could overtake her. “What do you need me to do, Adi?”
“I need you to first examine Eliza,” Adaira replied. “She returned home with ribbons in her hair and not a speck of dirt on her clothes. By all appearances, it seems as if she’s been well looked after, but I need you to confirm she hasn’t been abused or mistreated. She’s also unable to answer any questions about who took her or where she’s been the past few weeks, which would be a tremendous help to us if she eventually felt safe enough to talk about it. But I want her needs to come first, and I hope you can help me realize what they are.”
Sidra was silent. She rarely had to examine a child for abuse, although it occasionally did happen. It always made her feel sick, and she had to reach out and support herself on the wall.
“Sid?” Adaira whispered, coming to her.
Sidra released a deep breath. She closed her eyes and centered herself, and when she met Adaira’s concerned gaze again, she nodded. “I will do this for you. Take me to Eliza.”
“I don’t know what to do, Jack,” Adaira confessed. She was pacing her chambers, waiting while Sidra examined Eliza. It seemed like everything she had been planning, everything she had been working toward, was crumbling in her hands.
“Come and eat something, Adaira,” Jack replied. He was sitting by the hearth, where he had called up a tea tray for them. “You can’t maintain your strength if you don’t feed yourself.”
She knew Jack was right, but her stomach was wound in a knot, wondering what Eliza had been through. Wondering where the other lasses were.
She tried to take a bite of a scone but set it back down and resumed her restless pacing. “If they harmed this child … the Breccans will wish they had never been born. I will teach them not to steal lasses. I will burn the west into ashes. I will raze it to the ground.”
Jack rose and stood before her. She knew she sounded like Torin. Her cousin who was missing. The captain of the guard, whose reluctance to trust the Breccans had been well founded all along. It only made her temper flare brighter until she felt Jack’s cold hands frame her face.
“We still need proof it’s them. But there are two things we can do at the moment, Adaira,” he said in a calm voice. “The first? You should write to Moray Breccan. Don’t say a word about Eliza, but give him an ultimatum. Tell him that you will grant him one day to return what his clan has stolen from us, or else the future of the trade and your visit is forfeit. Make no declarations of war yet. The second? I’m composing a ballad for the spirits of the wind. I believe I can have it completed very soon, if I spend most of my hours devoted to it.”
Adaira studied him. Her heart was pounding in excitement as well as fear as she listened to his suggestions. “I don’t want you to play for the wind, Jack.”