“Indeed.”
“Why return only one of the lasses?”
“Because I wanted to prove to you that I am merciful and I do nothing without thought,” Moray answered. “I knew you would soon discover I was the one stealing them, and you would burn with anger toward me. I needed to prove to you that there was a reason for the snatchings, and that, most of all, the lasses were being treated gently in the west.”
“Why steal them?” Adaira asked. “Why have you and your clan sunk so low as to take our daughters?”
A hint of a smile played over Moray’s lips. “Grant me another cut, Adaira. Because what I’m about to tell you … I need you to know it’s truth.”
She sat there for a moment, solemn and full of worry. But he was right; the first cut was already mending. So she granted him another wound, deep enough this time to draw a grimace across his face.
“Now then,” Adaira said. “Why?”
Moray seemed to settle in the chair, as if preparing for a long encounter. “On a stormy autumn night nearly twenty-three years ago,” he began, “the Laird of the West and her consort welcomed their first child into the world. A lad with hair like corn silk and a voice like a bleating goat. And yet he was not alone. Another bairn followed on his heels. A very small lass. She was tiny compared to her twin, with hair white as moon thistle.”
Moray paused.
Adaira swallowed and said, “Go on.”
Her enemy smiled and continued.
“She seemed shocked to enter the world on such a night, and my parents held her in awe, willing her to cry, to nurse, to open her eyes. Even then she defied them, and when the druid entered the chamber to bless the new bairns three days after their birth, he would not bless the lass. ‘She is sickly,’ he said. ‘There is a great chance your true daughter has been stolen by the spirits. Appoint a person you trust to set this lass in a place where the wind is gentle, where the earth is soft, where fire can strike in a moment, and where the water flows with a comforting song. A place where the old spirits gather, for they can return your true daughter, who is strong and destined for greatness in our clan.’
“My parents consulted with each other, and they both concluded there was one person they trusted to exchange their daughter—the Keeper of the Aithwood.
“The Keeper of the Aithwood was a good man, one who lived in solitude in the wood. He was a watchman and loyal to the clan, and he knew of a place where the folk of earth, air, fire, and water gathered. He took Cora, my sister, from my parents and carried her deep into the wood. He was given orders to lay her in a place where the spirits would find her and then to leave her there. If he was present, the spirits wouldn’t manifest to switch the children. So the keeper found a blanket of moss near a river, in the heart of the forest where the wind blew through the boughs and fire could rise and burn at a moment’s notice. And he left my sister there.
“For almost my entire life, I believed what the keeper told my parents about that day: he left my sister on the moss to be taken. But when he returned hours later, Cora was gone, and there was no bairn for him to carry back to my parents. For years my family and my clan believed what he told us: one of the folk of the wind took my sister into their kingdom and raised her there, knowing she would not survive the mortal realm. And we found painful peace in the thought, and we bowed to the wind, believing she was within it.
“But secrets refuse to stay buried on the isle. They have an uncanny way of rising, and they are vengeful.
“I had grown suspicious of the keeper over the years. His loyalty seemed to waver at times—he protested the raids and refused to let us ride through the Aithwood when we conducted them. I decided to watch him closely. It took a few years, but I finally caught him on the clan line, returning to the west. He had been walking the east without detection, and I wanted to know how he had accomplished such a feat.
“It took me months to wear him down. To break his stubbornness. In the end, he confessed and gave me his full allegiance in order to preserve his life. And the story he had once given about my sister’s disappearance? It had been a lie.
“This is what truly happened:
“On the day he left Cora on the moss, he walked away from her, as he had been ordered to do. But where she had been silent before, her cries now echoed through the forest, and they drew him back to her. He stood a safe distance away, so as not to interfere with the folk, and watched as the day began to fade into evening. It was bitterly cold, and the spirits refused to come and claim her. Soon, her cries drew a wolf, and the keeper fought off the beast and was wounded. His arm bled, and he chose to pick up my sister and deliver her elsewhere. He had lost a good deal of blood and become disoriented, but he knew the river would lead him home.