Curious, Jack took a closer look at the parchment. The letter was addressed to Adaira, and it bore the crest of two swords in a ring of juniper. The Breccans’ sigil.
He recoiled from it, alarmed. Why would the western clan write to her?
He paced the room, trying to cast his thoughts about the letter aside, but his worries lingered. What could the Breccans want from her? It was strange that the first thing that crossed his mind was that they wanted to marry her.
Jack came to a stop before the balcony doors, disconcerted when he remembered the legend of Joan Tamerlaine, dying entwined with Fingal Breccan. Did the Breccans dream of peace again after so many years of strife?
He wondered if the isle could be made whole again, but thought it impossible.
An hour had passed on the sun dial. Where was Adaira?
The view overlooked the thoroughfare of Sloane, and as Jack’s gaze skimmed the street he realized there was some sort of commotion happening below. People were gathering together in the market. A few men started running, and vendors began to close their stalls early. It looked like school was even released spontaneously; young girls and boys were being escorted home.
Jack looked for Frae amongst the dispersing students, but there was no sign of her bright russet hair. She’s with Mirin today, he recalled, the tension in his shoulders easing. She’s safe, at home.
He continued to watch the activity in the streets. He decided to leave—after all, Adaira had stood him up—and he hurried through the courtyard to the market.
“What’s happening?” he asked one of the women who was closing her bakery.
“You didn’t hear the news?” she replied. “Another lass has gone missing.”
“Who?” Jack demanded.
“I’m not sure yet. Several names have been mentioned, but we’re waiting for it to be confirmed by Captain Torin.”
At once, Jack’s stomach dropped, his blood ran cold, and his thoughts scattered like broken glass. On the mainland, he had been afraid of nothing but failure. Failing a class, failing to graduate, failing to please his lover. His fears had only pertained to himself and his own performance. Now he realized how self-absorbed he had been all those years. He was swiftly learning ever since he had returned home that he couldn’t live on music alone, that he cared about and needed other things, even if their appearance in his life came as an utter shock, like bulbs blooming after a long winter. He felt his greatest fear come to life within him, a fear that had been born only days before.
Frae could be missing.
He didn’t waste another moment.
Jack sprinted along the road. He refused to stop, even when his breath turned to fire in his lungs and a stitch pulled in his side. He ran all the way to Mirin’s croft and vaulted over the yard fence, and he thought his heart had melted when he burst through his mother’s front door.
He halted, his boots leaving a track of mud on the floor. Mirin stood at her loom, startled and wide eyed as she turned to behold his dramatic entrance. And there was Frae, sprawled on the divan, reading a book with flowers tucked in her braids.
He stared at his little sister, as if he didn’t trust his own eyes, and he trembled as he shut the door. He felt a rush of relief, followed by a twinge of guilt, to know it wasn’t Frae but another nameless lass.
“Jack?” Mirin asked. “Jack, what’s wrong?”
“I thought …” He couldn’t speak. He swallowed and battled his breath. “I heard another lass went missing.”
“Which lass?” Frae cried, shutting her book.
“I’m not sure. No names have been shared yet.” Jack hated the fear that crept over Frae’s expression. “Perhaps it’s only a rumor, and not true at all. You know how the wind gossips.”
Mirin’s gaze shifted to her daughter. “It’ll be all right, Frae.”
Jack was stricken as Frae’s face crumpled, on the verge of tears.
He didn’t know what he would do if she wept, but it made something in him ache. At the university, he had come to learn there were moments when words were not enough, and he strode into his bedroom. His harp still sat in its sleeve, waiting to be freed.
He carried the instrument back into the common room and sat in a chair across from Frae. A few tears had trickled down her cheeks, but she wiped them away when she realized what he held.
“Would you like to hear a song, Frae?”
She nodded vehemently, pushing stray hair from her eyes.
“I would be honored to play for both you and Mum,” Jack said, resisting the temptation to glance at Mirin, who was lowering the shuttle of her loom. “But I must warn you, Frae … this is my first time playing on the isle. I might not sound nearly as good as I do on the mainland.”