He listened, his eyes fixed on her. Every few breaths, he would study her blood-smeared chest, the snarls of her matted hair, and Sidra would feel how cold she was.
“The spirit spoke?” Torin interrupted when she reached that part.
Sidra hesitated. She glanced across the room at Graeme, whom she had all but forgotten about. Her father-in-law stood by the door, still holding the two glasses of whiskey. He nodded to her, quietly encouraging her to tell Torin …
“It wasn’t a spirit,” Sidra said.
His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
She explained about spirit blood.
“Are you certain, Sidra?” Torin asked. “This isn’t your blood?”
“I gave him a flesh wound in the back,” she said flatly. “This is not my blood, nor is it a spirit’s.”
“Then if it was a man …” Torin exhaled through his teeth. “Describe him to me. How tall was he? What did his voice sound like?”
Sidra struggled to put her memory, which felt distorted by night and terror, into something that Torin could identify.
He listened, bent toward her words, but she could sense his frustration. “You didn’t recognize his voice, but he asked for my daughter in particular?”
“Yes, Torin.”
“So he knows me. He must be a clansman, someone I’ve brushed shoulders with, or trained in the guard. Someone who knows the lay of the east.” Torin pressed a knuckle to his lips and shut his eyes. He still looked far too pale, as if the blood had drained from him.
“Torin,” Sidra whispered, reaching for his hand. She knew what he was feeling. That horrible wave of distress, to know it was a man stealing the lasses. To ask oneself, Why would a man kidnap little girls?
His eyes opened. He held Sidra’s gaze for a beat, but there was no hope, no reassurance in him. There was only anguish, and she felt responsible for it. She should have fought harder. She should have run faster. She should have screamed for Graeme.
Her hand fell back to her side, but Torin reached for her fingers, drawing her across the room and out the front door.
“If you wounded him, he could not have gotten far. Show me the exact place where it happened,” he said.
Sidra tripped as she matched his pace. She was still barefoot, and the brightness of the sun was a shock to her. She squinted, then realized that several of Torin’s guards were present, waiting by the road. They instantly moved forward when they saw her bloodied clothes.
“It was here, Torin,” she said, stopping halfway down the hill. The heather around her was crushed, a testament to her struggle. “I stabbed him. And he …” She bit off the rest, but Torin’s eyes were keen.
“What did he do next, Sidra?”
She resisted the urge to embrace herself and shivered. “He kicked me. In the chest. I rolled to there and lost the dirk on the way down.”
Torin followed the trail, kneeling in the place where Sidra had sprawled. He was pensive, studying the ground. His fingers found a few drops of blood in the heather, and it gave Sidra hope. Torin would be able to find the culprit. When he rose, she could see the color had returned to his face. His eyes were blazing, his steps full of purpose as he came to her.
“I want you to stay with my da for the rest of the day,” he said. “Please don’t leave his croft. Do you hear me, Sid?”
Sidra frowned. “No. I planned to help you search, Torin.”
“I would prefer if you stay with Graeme.”
“But I want to search. I don’t want to be locked away in a house, waiting on news.”
“Listen to me, Sidra,” Torin said, taking hold of her shoulders. “You were brutally attacked last night and injured. You need to rest.”
“I’m fine—”
“I won’t be able to focus on the search if I’m worried about you!” His words were sharp, cutting through her resolve. “Please, just do as I ask, this one time.”
Sidra took a step away. His hands slipped from her shoulders, and he sighed. But he didn’t stop her when she turned and ascended the hill, and she didn’t look back.
She passed through the gate into the yard. Graeme was standing in the doorway, still holding the two glasses of whiskey.
He took one look at Sidra’s face and said, “I’ll make us some oatcakes.”
She watched him step inside, grateful that he was granting her a moment alone. She took a step deeper into the yard and realized the glamour wasn’t fading, as it always did when she approached Graeme’s place.