Adaira Tamerlaine
HEIRESS OF THE EAST
She sealed it with her clan crest and watched the wax harden. It was midnight when she rose and carried the letter to the aviary, where she chose the sleekest raven to deliver her message.
She watched as it flew west, into the darkest hour of night.
CHAPTER 14
Frae stood beside Mirin, watching her weave on the loom. It was an ordinary plaid, one that didn’t hold a secret because Frae wasn’t to learn that skill until she came of age. And yet Frae’s eyes felt crossed amongst all the threads. No matter how she tried, she didn’t see what her mother did. She couldn’t see the possibilities, how to make a pattern come to life, but she dutifully watched Mirin work.
The chamber brimmed with the clack of the shuttle, the musty fragrance of wool being woven—sounds and scents that were familiar but made Frae daydream. She stifled a yawn as her thoughts wandered.
When a knock sounded at the door, Frae’s heart lifted, grateful for the interruption, and she went to answer it.
Torin stood on the threshold.
Frae gaped at the captain for a moment, wondering why he had come. She thought maybe he was back to search the house again, but then she noticed a black-and-white collie panting at his side.
“Good afternoon, Fraedah,” Torin said. “Is your mum home?”
Frae shyly nodded and opened the door further.
Torin commanded the dog to sit and wait on the stoop before entering with muddy boots. Frae shut the door, uncertain whether to leave or stay.
“Captain,” Mirin greeted him, turning away from the loom. “How may I help you?”
“I’ve come to commission you, Mirin,” he replied.
“Another plaid, in the vein of your others?” Mirin asked, nodding to Frae, who hurried to boil some water for tea.
“No, not for me,” Torin said. “It’s for Sidra.”
Frae listened to Torin describe the shawl he wanted Mirin to weave as she quietly filled the pot and carried it to the hearth. She had taught herself how to move without sound, how to move like a shadow. Her game of stealth ended only when she had to set the kettle on the iron hook and stir the logs, renewing the flames.
The talk began to drift from the plaid to what had transpired a few nights ago. Her mum hadn’t wanted Frae to know all that had happened, but she had gathered bits and pieces of information, puzzling it all together to realize that Maisie had vanished and Sidra had been attacked. Sidra, who Frae thought was one of the most beautiful people on the isle.
The news had strengthened Frae’s fears. It felt like her heart was bruised.
“How is Sidra today?” Mirin was asking.
“She’s recovering,” Torin answered. Frae thought his voice sounded different from normal. Like he was short of breath. “I’m still searching.”
“No trace?”
He shook his head.
The tea prepared, Frae glanced at her mother, who was intently watching the captain.
“About this plaid, Mirin,” he continued with an awkward wave of his hand. “I would like for it to be strong as steel. Something to guard her when I’m away.”
He wanted it to be enchanted.
Mirin glanced at Frae, and Frae recognized it as the sign. The one that meant Frae was to go outside but to stay within the safety of the yard. She quickly filled two cups of tea and set them down on the table between Mirin and the captain, despite the fact neither of them had sat.
“Thank you, lass,” Torin said with a sad smile. It made Frae feel like she was important, and she wished more than anything she could remain in the room and hear the secret Torin wanted Mirin to weave into the plaid.
“I’ll go gather the eggs, Mum,” Frae said and meekly departed, latching the front door behind her.
When she turned to the yard, she saw the dog, waiting on Torin to return. She tentatively stroked its fur before walking around the garden toward the coop.
Jack was in the byre yard, on his hands and knees. Frae ran to join him, her heart lifting. He had been working on the byre most of the morning, resetting stones and reframing the windows, thatching fresh straw for the roof. Frae was grateful for these repairs, because she worried about their three cows not having enough shelter when it rained and snowed. When the wind blew harshly from the north.
“Jack!” she greeted him, clambering over the stone wall.
He glanced up at her. His hair was tangled, his face sun-burned. He looked so different now, Frae thought. The first night she had met him, she had thought he looked sad and pale, as if a breeze could sigh through him. Now his skin was darkening from the sun, his eyes were brighter, and his presence was strong, as if nothing could bend him.