Jack felt his lip curl, but he hid it behind a long drought of wine. He set the empty glass down with a clunk before he tugged on Adaira’s hand, inviting her to look at him.
“Untie me,” he said.
She stared at him, as if hesitant to let him go now that he’d made his earnest request. But she conceded and stood, pulling Jack up after her. The mere motion of her rising hushed the exuberant conversations, and every eye was drawn to her.
“My good people of the east,” she began with a smile. “I’m breaking with tradition this evening and cutting my groom loose long before bed, so that he may reward us all with a little celebration music.” She turned to Jack and unknotted the plaid that bound them, an intimate gesture that provoked whispers in the crowd.
The clan’s attention shifted to him as he walked to where Lorna’s harp waited on the dais. He sat on the stool and let out a long breath, the weight of expectation nearly cracking his confidence. But he could see Mirin and Frae sitting in the crowd nearby. Laird Alastair, Torin, and Sidra. Una and Ailsa and their son and daughter. This was home to him—these people with their enchanted plaids and dirks, with their laughter and weeping and stories and fears and dreams. They were his clan, and he belonged among them, even though he had returned as a stranger.
Jack positioned his hands on the strings and began to play a joyful song. His notes reverberated in the hall, full of life and merriment, but it did nothing to ease the storm that stirred within him. He was acutely annoyed by Callan Craig, who continued to shamelessly stare at Adaira. But then Jack dared to glance at her too, and found that she was sitting in her chair watching Jack as if he were the only one in the hall.
The firelight and shadows danced on her collarbones; her half of the golden coin gleamed like a fallen star at her breast. Her hair cascaded around her in soft waves, the crown of wildflowers a contrast to her fair coloring.
He was struck by her sharp beauty and missed a note with his left hand but recovered quickly; he didn’t think anyone had noticed. Save for Adaira. She grinned as if she heard his misstep, and he knew he should look away from her before the music came unraveled in his hands.
He glanced back to the strings and remembered his purpose—he was playing for the clan, not for her.
And so he did.
Frae had been overcome with all sorts of feelings the entire day. Ever since she had joined Sidra to walk Adaira to the thistles, witnessing her brother marrying the heiress. She was terrified it was a dream, that she would wake up and discover that all of it—even Jack’s return home—had been her imagination.
But nothing prepared her for the moment when he played for the clan.
She sat on the bench beside Mirin, so eager that she bounced on the balls of her feet. The moment his music touched the air the hall seemed to wake. Frae noticed the tapestry colors becoming vibrant again, and the carvings in the timber beams seeming to stir with sentience. The fire burned higher in the glazed hearth and in the torch sconces, and the shadows danced low and gentle.
The isle was stirring, coming to life. Frae was transfixed by its awakening, and she could almost swear that she felt a rumble beneath her feet, as if the stones were basking in the sound of Jack’s music.
His song ended all too soon. When he was begged to play another, he did. He played three songs in all, and to the last one he gave his voice as well as his notes.
Frae was overcome with pride. A roar of applause filled the hall when Jack reached the end. Frae jumped to her feet and clapped; she could feel the fervor in her teeth, and she wanted to tell everyone, “That’s my brother! That’s my brother!” Especially when Jack rose and bowed to the clan and everyone in the hall stood to honor him. Frae noticed Mirin had tears in her eyes again, as she had the first time she heard Jack’s music. She wiped them away before they could fall.
It was the happiest Frae had felt in weeks.
She had been so afraid when her friends began to go missing. Girls she went to school with. Girls she sometimes passed in the city or on the road. She wanted them to be well. She wanted them to be found.
Listening to Jack’s music … Frae’s hope was restored.
She didn’t quite understand how, but her brother’s music was going to save them.
Adaira was weary of the revelry. The feast began to dwindle; the fire began to burn low. She had wanted no celebration, no dancing, no games, no toasts at her handfasting. She was still surprised that her father had managed to arrange a feast without her knowing.
But perhaps her father and Torin had planned it together, if only to have Jack play for the clan. Because Adaira had felt it—the shift in hearts. The clan feeling the balm of Jack’s music, the peace and light suffusing the gathering.