He waited for her to resurface, watching the mesmerizing roll of the sea. But Adaira remained beneath the water, and Jack panicked.
“Adaira,” he called to her, but the wind stole her name right from his mouth. “Adaira!”
There was no answer, no sign of her anywhere. Soon, his eyes ached from peeling the darkness and from the glimmer of waves. Half of him knew she was toying with him, but half of him was terrified a spirit had come to claim her and was holding her down beneath the surface.
He jumped into the water, one arm holding the instrument tight to his chest, the other searching frantically for her. His hand cut through the cold whirl of the tide. He knew as soon as their fingers entwined that she had been waiting for him, lurking like a patient predator. She had known he would come after her, and as he broke the surface with her, he was relieved and angry and a tiny bit amused.
He said nothing at first. The water dripped from his hair, and he glared when she smiled, when she laughed. His traitorous heart skipped at the sound.
“Go on,” he said. “Take delight in my surrender.”
“You should be thanking me. I just saved you from a long night perched on a rock.” She slipped her fingers from his and splashed him in the face as she swam away.
Jack reached to snag her ankle, but Adaira evaded him. He couldn’t catch her. She swam just ahead of him, leading him to the coastal path. After a moment, she turned to glide backwards, beholding his face.
“You’ve grown slow in the water, Jack.”
He said nothing, because the music for the spirits had drained him. Let her blame his weak swimming on the mainland.
He followed her to where the path cut up through the rocks. Adaira pulled herself from the sea, elegant despite her drenched clothes. Jack remained in the water, waiting for her to turn and look at him.
He extended his hand; he didn’t know if he was strong enough to climb out without her assistance. “Are you going to help me up?”
Adaira unwound her matted braid and laughed again. “Do you think I was born yesterday?”
She gave him a terrible idea. He almost smiled.
“Then will you at least take my harp? It’s going to warp now, after all this time in the water.” He held up his instrument, and Adaira studied it. Jack concealed his glee as she reached forward to take hold of his harp.
As soon as her fingers closed over the frame, he pulled. Adaira let out a shriek as she tumbled into the sea, just over his head. He couldn’t resist it; a broad grin spread across his face as Adaira spluttered to the surface.
“You will soon pay for that,” she said, wiping the water from her eyes. “Old menace.”
“I have no doubt,” he replied in a droll tone. “What will it be, heiress? Tar and feathers? The stocks? My firstborn son?”
She stared at him a moment, pearls of water on her long lashes. The sea lapped at their shoulders, and Jack could feel her fingers brush his as they both waded in the roll of the waves.
“I can think of something far worse.” But she smiled when she said it, and he had never seen such a smile on her face before. Or maybe he had once, long ago when they were children.
She was making him remember those old days. Days spent in the sea and the caves. Nights spent roaming the wild places, the thistle patches and the glens and the rocks on the coast. She was making him remember what it felt like to belong on the isle. To belong to the east.
She wanted him to stay and play for their clan, and Jack was beginning to think that maybe he should seize that opportunity, even if it stole his health, song by song.
Just for a year. A full passing of seasons. Long enough to see her rise as laird.
He drew a tendril of golden algae from her hair and begrudgingly acknowledged it then.
He disliked her a little less than he had yesterday.
And that could only bring him trouble.
CHAPTER 9
Sidra dreamt she walked the shores of Cadence. In the beginning, Maisie was at her side, and then the little lass turned into a fish and leapt into the sea and Sidra was alone, standing on blood-soaked sand. She was worried about Maisie until she saw Donella in the distance. It surprised her at first. Torin’s first wife had never appeared in her dreams, but Sidra waved as Donella Tamerlaine strode to her, dressed in armor and draped in the brown and red plaid of the guard.
“Donella? Why are you here?” Sidra asked, and her heart betrayed her. It began to hammer as she wondered if Donella had returned to take Torin and Maisie back.
“Sidra? Sidra, wake up,” Donella said urgently. The sand crushed beneath her boots and she reached for Sidra’s arm, to shake her. “This is a dream. Awaken.”