Soon he would be able to speak again, and yet what words would suffice in this moment? Torin knew the heavy burdens Adaira carried. And while he once would have endeavored to take them from her, those thoughts had died over the years as he found his place with the guard. She was laird now, and the best he could do was carry the burdens alongside her.
He sat with her in that tender silence.
If his life had not been interrupted by the sting of an enchanted blade, he would have spoken. He probably would have become frustrated, wondering what Adaira and Jack had done to bring the storm. He would have peppered her with questions he felt entitled to have answers to. He would have said anything to fill the roar of such silence, but now he understood it better. The weight of each word he uttered, and how his words unfolded in the air. He was far more mindful of them now, understanding that most of them were worthless.
He was a man built from many regrets, and he didn’t want to add to that number.
“Torin,” Adaira said at last. “If I call upon you to ride with me into war … will you support my decision?”
He was silent a beat too long. She had expected him to agree instantly, and Adaira shivered in alarm as she glanced at him.
He was thinking of the ghosts in his dreams. Now that Torin had beheld the Breccans’ faces and listened to their grief, he had begun to see the trade as a way to atone for his actions. He couldn’t bring the lives back, but he could ensure the widows, the children, and the lovers were still looked after.
But he nodded, in spite of his conflicted feelings.
“Bane confirmed our suspicions. The Breccans have been stealing the girls,” Adaira said. “They’re alive and well looked after, but we still need to learn of their location.”
Torin’s hands curled into fists. He wanted to go now, to cross the clan line and bring Maisie home, and he struggled to rein in his impulsivity.
Adaira must have sensed the impatience within him, because she said, “There are a few more things I need to do before we’ll be ready to steal into the west and find the girls. In the meantime, I’m going to ask your second in command to very quietly tell Una to begin forging as many swords and axes as she can, Ailsa to prepare her finest horses, Ansel to begin fletching arrows and stringing as many yew bows as he is able, Sidra to prepare tonics and healing salves, and the guard and watchmen to train, to sharpen their swords, to wear their enchanted plaids like armor. We need to be prepared for conflict when we bring the lasses home.”
Torin nodded again, agreeing with her. He would have to be patient; he would have to trust Adaira’s judgment.
He sat with her a while longer, his mind whirling with images of Maisie and the thought of bringing his daughter home to war.
“What happened to your hands?” Jack said.
Sidra didn’t pause as she prepared a tonic for him. For the past two days, the bard had looked the worst she had ever seen him, his skin pallid, his eyes bloodshot. His voice was hoarse, and his hands trembled when he raised them. He was sitting upright in his bed at the castle, watching her work.
She was worried about him and the strong magic he was casting. The cost was too heavy for him to bear so frequently, and she debated over how much she could fuss over him.
“I picked a spiteful weed,” she explained. The splotches of red and the blisters on her palms had been slow to heal, but Torin’s wound was nearly mended. She met Jack’s gaze as she brought the healing brew to his lips. “Here, drink all of this. You pushed yourself too hard this time, Jack. You need to be mindful of the things I mentioned to you before: how long you wield magic and how intricate it is. You also need to give your body time to rest in between, as your mum does with her plaids.”
Jack grimaced at her gentle scolding. “I know. I didn’t have much choice, though, Sidra.”
She wondered what he meant, but he didn’t offer an explanation as he took a sip, wincing at the taste.
“I’m sorry,” Sidra said, lowering the cup. “I know it’s bitter.”
“I’ve tasted far worse on the mainland,” he replied, and Sidra was glad to hear a touch of wry humor in his voice.
“Do you miss it?” she asked.
Jack was pensive for a moment. She worried she had offended him until he said, “No. I did when I first returned to Cadence, but this place is home to me.”
She smiled, wondering if he would stay wed to Adaira. She thought that he would. She was setting out a salve and tonic for him to take later when Jack took her by surprise.
“What do you know of Bane, Sidra?”