Jack was frozen as he watched the bedchamber door swing open. Out walked a young lass, barefoot and shyly beaming, her long auburn hair tamed by two braids.
Jack’s initial thought was that she was Mirin’s apprentice. But the girl came right to Mirin, wrapping her arms around his mother in a terribly familiar way. The little stranger smiled up at Jack, her eyes brightly curious.
No. No, this cannot be … His heart beat wildly with shock the longer he beheld the lass.
His gaze rose to Mirin. His mother was unable to hold his stare; her hand trembled as she stroked the girl’s copper braids.
And then came her words, words that pierced Jack like a sword, and it took everything within him not to double over as Mirin said, “Jack? This is your younger sister, Fraedah.”
CHAPTER 4
Jack’s bones were leaden as he stared at the girl, his sister—his sister—and somehow managed to say, “It’s nice to meet you, Fraedah. I’m Jack.”
“Hello.” Frae smiled, her cheeks marked by two dimples. “You can call me Frae, actually. All of my friends do.”
Jack nodded. His face felt hot; he couldn’t swallow.
“Mum told me I have an older brother who’s a bard,” his sister continued. “She said you’d return soon, but we didn’t know when. I’ve dreamt of meeting you!”
Jack forced a smile. It felt more like a grimace, and he narrowed his eyes at Mirin, who was finally looking at him, a pained expression on her face.
“Frae?” she said, clearing her throat. “Why don’t you go and sleep in my room tonight? You can see Jack tomorrow at breakfast.”
“Yes, Mum,” Frae replied in a dutiful tone, her arms falling away from Mirin’s waist. “Good night, Jack.”
He didn’t respond. He couldn’t find the words in time, even as she grinned once more at him, like he was a hero in a story she’d been hearing about for years.
Frae slipped into Mirin’s bedchamber, latching the door behind her.
Jack stood, quiet as stone, staring at the place where she’d been.
“Are you hungry?” Mirin asked, tentatively. “I left soup on the fire for you.”
“No.”
He had been starving up until that moment. Now his stomach was churning, his appetite gone. He had never felt more uncomfortable or out of place in his life, and his eyes swept toward the front door, seeking an escape route. “I can sleep in the byre tonight.”
“What? No, Jack,” Mirin said firmly, standing in his path. “You can have your old room.”
“But it belongs to Frae now.”
Frae. His little sister, whose entire existence Mirin had kept concealed from him. He gritted his teeth, felt the sting of his palm as his fingers curled inward.
Before his mother could speak again, Jack hissed, “Why didn’t you tell me about her?”
“I wanted to, Jack,” Mirin replied in a low voice. She seemed to worry Frae might overhear them. “I wanted to. I just … I didn’t know how to tell you.”
He continued to regard her, coldly. He wanted to leave, and Mirin must have sensed it.
She stretched out her hand to him, gently touching his face.
He flinched, even as he longed to see and feel her love for him. The love he had seen in her hands when she had touched Frae’s hair. Effortless and natural.
He felt the years that had been lost between them now, like a limb torn away. Time that could never be regained, time that had encouraged them to grow apart. Mirin might have given him life and raised him the first eleven years, but the mainland professors and their music had shaped him into who he was now.
Mirin’s hand fell away. Her dark eyes glistened with sorrow, and he worried she was about to weep.
His throat was still aching, but he managed to say, “I would appreciate some dry clothes, if you have them.”
“Yes, of course,” Mirin said, her posture easing with visible relief, as if she had been holding her breath. “Yes, I have clothes ready for you. I always hoped you would return, and so I … in here, Jack …” She strode into his bedroom.
Jack stiffly followed.
He watched as Mirin opened the wooden trunk at the foot of the bed. She withdrew a stack of perfectly folded garments. A fawn-colored tunic and a green plaid.
“I made these for you,” she said, staring down at the raiment. “I had to guess how tall you’d be, but I think I imagined right.”
Jack accepted the clothes. “Thank you,” he said, the words clipped. He was numb with shock and irritated from wearing Torin’s oversized, drenched clothes all day. He was hungry and tired and overwhelmed by the knowledge of Frae, by the request Adaira had made of him.