Jack watched, arms crossed, as his little sister showed Adaira how to hold it, how to aim, how to set the stone in the pouch. Adaira took her first shot, nailing the target.
Jack arched a brow, impressed.
Frae jumped up and down, cheering. A slow, satisfied grin broke across Adaira’s face.
“That was quite fun,” she said, handing the slingshot back to Frae. “Now I see why your brother loved it so much.”
Jack only snorted.
“Frae!” Mirin called from the crest of the hill. “Come help me finish supper.”
Frae’s shoulders slumped as she brought the slingshot to Jack.
“Why don’t you keep it for now,” he said. “That way you can practice whenever you feel like it.”
Frae appeared shocked. “You’re certain?”
“Very. I have no need for a slingshot these days.”
That restored Frae’s excitement. She bounded up the hill, proudly showing it to Mirin as the two of them returned to the house.
Jack continued to stand beside Adaira in the crook of the river. The stars were beginning to dust the sky when she spoke.
“She seems quite fond of you, Jack.”
“Does that come as a surprise?” he countered, bristling.
“No, actually. But I confess that I’m jealous.”
Jack studied her profile. She was gazing at the river, as if mesmerized by its dance. Adaira smiled, but it was inspired by sadness. “I always wanted a sister. A brother. I never wanted to be the only one. I would give up my right to rule if it meant I could have a horde of siblings.”
Jack fell quiet, but he knew exactly what thoughts were in her mind. She was thinking of the castle graveyard. The three little graves beside her mother’s. A brother and two sisters, born years before her. All three had been stillborn.
Adaira, the last child of Lorna and Alastair, was the only one to survive.
“Do you know what the clan says of you, Adaira?” Jack began softly. “They call you our light. Our hope. They claim even the spirits bend a knee when you pass. I’m surprised flowers don’t grow in your footsteps.”
That coaxed a slight chuckle from her, but he could still see her melancholy, as if a hundred sorrows weighed her down. “Then I have fooled you all. I fear that I am riddled with flaws, and there is far more shadow than light in me these days.”
She met his gaze again. The wind began to blow from the east, cold and dry. Adaira’s hair rose and tangled like a silver net, and Jack could smell the fragrance within its shine. Like lavender and honey.
He thought that he would like to see those shadows in her. Because he felt his own, brimming in his bones and dancing in solitude for far too long.
“Is there somewhere I can speak to you in private?” she asked.
He knew she was referring to the wind. Whatever she had to say to him, she didn’t want the breeze to carry her words, and Jack glanced up the hill toward Mirin’s cottage. He could take Adaira to his room, but he didn’t think that would quite feel right, with Mirin and Frae both in the kitchen. But then he had a better idea, and he motioned for Adaira to follow him up the hill.
He took her to the storehouse, a round, stone building with a thatched roof where Mirin’s winter provisions were kept. The space smelled like dust, golden grains, and dried herbs as he and Adaira stood face-to-face in the dim light.
“You’ve been searching for the lass,” Jack said.
Adaira sighed, briefly closing her eyes. “Yes.”
“Have there been any signs of where she might have gone?”
“No, Jack.”
“I’m worried about Frae,” he said before he could swallow the words.
Adaira’s expression softened. “As am I. Are you prepared to play tonight, as we originally planned?”
Jack nodded, even though his heart began to pound with anticipation. His dreams from the night before surged in his mind. He stared at Adaira and thought, I’ve dreamt of drowning at the spirits’ hands, and what if your fate is now twined with mine?
“What is it?” she whispered in a husky tone.
He wondered what she saw in his eyes before he glanced away, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, given that I’m more mainlander than islander these days.”
Adaira bit her lip. Jack sensed she had a retort to his comment.
“What is it, heiress?”
“You said something to me the other day, Jack,” she began. “You said, ‘This place was never my home.’”