Jack slowly rose to his feet.
“It’s not the flower,” Mirin finally said, turning to regard him once more. “It’s the river. Your father discovered its secret by happenstance. One autumn night he was wounded and had an urgent need for assistance. He had lost quite a bit of blood and become disoriented. He was following the river and its current downstream, thinking it would lead him home. He was shocked when he realized that he stood in the east, and that no alarm had been raised. He believed it must be the river, shielding his presence. He followed it to my lands and dared to knock upon my door, asking for my help. We soon realized it was not just the river but blood within the water that made it possible for him to cross unnoticed to meet with me.”
Jack remembered the night of the raid, how he had seen the Breccans ride along the river valley, undetected. The words of Ream of the Sea rang in his ears.
Beware of blood in the water.
Frae brushed the cows in the byre until she could hear her mum and brother. She couldn’t make out the words, but their voices were rising, as if they were arguing.
It made her anxious, and eventually she wandered to the backyard, her slingshot in hand.
The sun was at last shining, breaking through the clouds. The light gilded the valley and the river, and Frae watched how the water sparkled as it flowed into the east. She knew she wasn’t supposed to leave the yard, but she wanted to practice before Jack joined her.
She slipped out the back gate and skipped down the hill to the riverbank. The currents were swollen from the rain, and she carefully drew stones from the water. Her target was still sitting in the grass, and Frae began to shoot. She missed the first two attempts but made a hit on her third.
“Yes!” she cried, bouncing on her toes.
She decided she would shoot three more times before returning to the yard and hurried to fetch her stones. Frae didn’t notice the man standing on the riverbank behind her, not until it was too late.
She gasped and froze. The first thing she noticed was his blue plaid. He was a Breccan. The second thing she noticed was his drenched boots, as if he had been walking in the river, and his hand was bleeding.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, taking a step back, heart pounding.
“I know,” he replied in a deep voice. “What’s your name, lass?”
Her throat narrowed. She felt her knees quaking, and she glanced up the hill, where she could just see the roof of her home.
“What’s your name?” the Breccan asked again.
Alarmed, Frae realized he was closer to her, although it seemed like he had only taken one step. She looked at his long, blond hair and wondered if this was the Breccan who had stood in the backyard before the raid. But then she realized this man was bigger, stronger than the one she had seen that night.
“F-Fraedah,” she said, taking a step back.
“That’s a lovely name,” he said. “Would you like to visit the west, Fraedah?”
Frae was truly afraid now. Her hands felt cold, and her heart was hammering so hard she could scarcely breathe. She didn’t know why this Breccan was here, but she wished he would leave, or Jack would arrive …
“I don’t think so,” Frae said, and made to bolt up the hill.
The Breccan’s speed was shocking. He caught her by the arm within seconds, then gently drew her to him.
“Now listen to me, Fraedah,” he said. “If you come peacefully, you won’t be hurt. But I can’t guarantee that if you fight me. So be a smart lass and come along.”
Frae gaped up at the stranger in horror, and then it hit her: nothing she could say would change his mind. He was going to take her to the west, whether she wanted to go or not, and her panic surged.
“Jack!” she screamed, fighting to slip away. “Jack!” She remembered her slingshot in her hand. The stone she held in the other.
Frae whirled and hurled the rock at the Breccan’s face. It smashed into his nose, and he grunted, releasing her. She took that slender moment to run again, thinking she was fast, she could outrun him—
“Jack!” she cried as the Breccan caught her again.
He was no longer gentle. With one hand, he covered her mouth. With the other, he picked her up and began to carry her to the river.
The world felt upside down. Frae flailed, kicking and biting his palm, but the Breccan wouldn’t release her. Her terror was sharper than a knife, cutting her up from within.
She could hear the water splashing as the Breccan carried her upstream. He slid a plaid over her eyes and a gag into her mouth.