Torin approached the back of Moray’s chair. He didn’t wait for Adaira’s command; he gagged the Breccan with a hard jerk, and Moray winced.
But the silence was worse than the noise. For now Adaira could feel the full weight of everyone looking at her. Mirin and Frae. Sidra and Torin. Her guards. Moray. Jack.
She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know if she should acknowledge Moray’s claims or sneer at them. Adaira rose.
“Torin, escort our prisoner to the dungeons of Sloane,” she said.
She stood aside as Torin blindfolded Moray again and loosened the bindings that had kept him strapped in the chair. The guards surrounded and dragged him from Mirin’s cottage to the yard, where the horses were waiting.
Adaira followed, preparing to ride with them. She didn’t want to look at Torin, or Sidra, or Jack. She didn’t want to see the doubt and the suspicion in their eyes, didn’t want to know how this revelation of her blood would change their opinion of her.
“Adaira,” Jack whispered. She felt him take a gentle hold of her arm, turning her toward him. “Where are you going?”
She stared at Jack’s chest. She couldn’t tell if he was wearing his half coin. In fact, she had never seen it around his neck, wondering if it merely hid beneath his tunic or if he chose not to don it.
It didn’t matter.
She realized she would need to break their handfast. Jack had inadvertently bound himself to a Breccan. The truth was slowly eating through her, as if her past and her soul were a feast to ravage. Her mind reeled with the list of things she needed to do—should do—but her primary focus was getting Moray secure in the holding.
“I’m escorting the prisoner with Torin,” she said in a flat tone.
“Then let me come with you,” Jack said.
She didn’t want him beside her. She wanted a moment alone, to weep and rage in privacy. To sink into the pain of realizing her entire life had been a lie.
“Stay here with your mum and sister,” Adaira said, licking her lips. She felt parched. Cracked to her bones. “You should be with them after what happened this morning, and you need to rest. The worst of this is far from over.”
She mounted her horse and gathered the reins. She looked at Torin, who was waiting for her nod, and then they began to ride east, with Moray Breccan in the center of their tight formation.
Adaira felt Jack’s gaze. But she couldn’t bear to look behind and meet it.
Jack watched her ride away. He was numb, and the tonic was beginning to lose its edge. A throb drummed at his temples; his thoughts were overflowing.
He didn’t know what to do, but he knew he wanted to be with Adaira. He dragged his hands over his face, breathing into his palms as he considered chasing after her on foot.
“Jack.”
He turned when Sidra’s soft voice broke his thoughts. She was standing in the yard behind him, her dark brows slanted in concern. “I think your mum might be in a bit of shock. I set a kettle on the fire to boil and left a calming brew of tea, but I think you should sit with her until the worst passes.”
He hadn’t even been thinking about the impact of Moray’s confession on his mother. His mind had been wholly consumed by Adaira.
“Yes, of course,” he said, and hurried back inside.
The light was still dim, but he could see Mirin sitting on the floor before the hearth, as if her knees had become disjointed. Frae was fluttering around her, trying to get her up.
“Jack!” his sister cried. “Something’s wrong with Mum!”
“It’s all right, Frae,” Jack said. He gently eased Mirin up and into a chair. He glanced at Sidra, uncertain.
The healer reached for Frae’s hand and smiled. “Frae? Would you like to come to work with me today? I have two patients I need to see, not far from here. You can help me with the herbs, and then we can bring some food back for Jack and your mum.”
The fear in Frae’s face turned into awe. “Could I really, Sidra?”
“Yes, I would love to have you accompany me. That is, if your mum and brother agree?”
Jack looked at Mirin. Her face was pale, her eyes glazed. He didn’t think she’d heard a word Sidra had said.
“Yes,” he replied, forcing a smile. “I think that sounds nice, Frae. Fetch your plaid.”
Frae darted into the bedroom. Jack sagged in relief.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said as Sidra set two more vials in his hands.
“There’s no need to. These are for you. Take them when the pain returns,” she said, glancing at Mirin. “Keep your mother warm and calm. The tea will help.”