Jack sighed. “But what if it affects me otherwise? What if it interferes with my ability to play?”
“Then you won’t play. We’ll wait until its effects have passed, and you’ll play in your own strength, with your tonics prepared,” she answered. “Because you’re right, Jack. The wind knows where the lasses are in the west. If they can provide us with the exact location, then we can execute a plan to save them.”
“And you think we’ll be able to do so after Innes Breccan provides us with enough flowers to eat and cross the clan line unnoticed?” Jack said.
Adaira nodded. “Yes.”
His stomach clenched. He felt a pulse of dread, thinking how many things could go wrong. Imagining sneaking through the west like a shadow. Being caught and imprisoned or possibly killed.
“What if you’re wrong, Adaira?” he asked. “What if the Orenna flower doesn’t grant the power to cross over the clan line?”
“I think there’s a strong possibility it does,” she said. “How else would the Breccans be doing it? If the flower grants them heightened awareness and power between our realm and the spirits’ realm, how could it not?”
“But if they knew of this earlier, why didn’t they harness this flower before?” Jack argued. “Why not use it to their advantage when they raid? It seems they only began to use it weeks ago, with the sole purpose to steal lasses.”
“And the most recent of raids,” Adaira added. “You claim you saw more Breccans than Torin counted.”
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. His sister had also seen a Breccan standing in their garden that night, and he worried Frae was next. She would be easy to snatch, so close to the clan line.
“Perhaps the Breccans didn’t know of the Orenna flower until now,” Adaira said. “Either way, whether it is or it isn’t the secret to crossing, we’re going to find the location of the lasses via the wind, and then we are going to steal into the west to take them back.”
“Then we should prepare for war, Adaira,” Jack said. “For whatever reason the Breccans are taking eastern lasses, they’ll be angry when they discover we used the object of their trade to deceive them and sneak into the west.”
“I don’t think I can make peace with a clan that steals children,” she said.
He nodded, but that icy feeling was creeping up his spine. What would war on the isle look like? Could the Tamerlaines prevail against a clan built of warriors? If they lost, what would become of Adaira?
Jack stared at her, lost in terrible thoughts.
The firelight and shadows danced over her, and her eyes glittered like two dark gemstones as she held his gaze. The sun was beginning to set; he had been oblivious to the fading light. Only an hour ago, he and Adaira had stood in a different world, with time crystallized around them. Now time rushed, caught up in an alarming current. He could feel it pull on him, the minutes slipping away one by one.
“If this is what you want,” he said. “Then I am with you.”
She stood and walked to his side. He felt her fingers in his hair, a faint caress.
“Thank you,” she breathed. “I should leave you now. The sun is setting, and I know you need to return to Mirin’s. But if you’re ready to play tomorrow, come find me.”
She retreated to her chamber before he could say another word. But she left the Orenna behind, and Jack tucked the vial away in his pocket as he began to pack up his music.
He hadn’t given himself time to think deeply about what had happened today. He didn’t have the chance until he was walking home to Mirin’s.
He thought about the night of the raid, and he could hear Frae’s voice saying to him in the dark, There’s a Breccan in our backyard. Perhaps the man had come to steal his little sister away, but perhaps he had stood as a sentry over their home, to deflect a raid from descending upon them.
Jack saw his mother in his mind’s eye, remaining on the lands she had earned despite the danger of the clan line that was so close to her croft. He recalled all the times he had asked for his father’s name, and every time Mirin had been unwilling to share even the smallest of morsels about him.
Walking the hills, Jack unsheathed his dirk. The only tangible legacy he now possessed, for he had been given no name, no lands. He had been granted nothing but a lone blade enchanted with truth, as if Jack’s father had anticipated all of the lies and secrets his son would be raised beneath.
Jack would have never believed it possible, not until Torin claimed that Breccans were passing over the clan line without notice, and Adaira claimed they were stealing the girls of the east. If they crossed secretly now, perhaps they had done so then, long ago when Jack’s mother lived alone on the edge of the border.