It was dim in the cave, the air cold and prickled with brine. It was a small, round space, and only a few threads of sunlight streamed in from cracks overhead.
Jack didn’t like it here. The place felt dangerous, eager to drown them if they weren’t vigilant about the tide. Ream’s words came to mind, as clear as if she stood in the foam of the cave, speaking to them again. Beware of blood in the water. Had the folk of the tide seen a glimpse of the future? Had they anticipated that this meeting would take place here and sought to give a warning to Adaira?
Jack shifted his weight, uneasy.
The wait for Moray’s arrival felt unbearable. Trying to ease his worries, Jack studied Adaira. He had scarcely given himself a moment to look at her that day, it had begun so madly with covertly preparing for the trade. But his eyes traced her now.
She wore a green dress and her enchanted plaid shawl. Her hair was braided with silver chains and tiny hearts of gemstones. The half coin shone at her neck, its glimmer matching his own, hidden beneath his plaid.
Jack almost said to her that he was glad she had asked him—chosen him—to stand with her in this moment as her partner. A moment that could unfold in a hundred different ways. A beginning or an end, and yet she had wanted it to be him.
She felt his gaze and glanced at him. She frowned. “Is something wrong, bard?”
He shook his head, but his hand found hers, weaving their fingers together. He returned his attention to the other side of the cave.
A few minutes passed. Soon Jack could hear pebbles shifting and the scrape of boots on the rocks. There was a strange echo, and Jack braced himself as Moray Breccan stepped into the western side of the cave.
He was tall and lean with dark blond hair and striking, angular features. A blue plaid was draped from his shoulder. On his forearms, woad tattoos danced in interlocked patterns. An old scar shone on his cheek, cutting through his braided beard. He carried a burlap sack and a narrow boat made from a hollowed tree trunk.
In some ways, Moray Breccan was exactly as Jack had envisioned him. A warrior, with stories on his pale skin. But in other ways, his appearance was surprising. He was dressed similarly to Jack—tunic and plaid and belt, with soft boots tethered up to his knees. If not for the proud display of blue and the tattoos, he might have passed as one of their own. And then came his smile. A grin spread across his face the moment he beheld Adaira, even as the tide whirled between them.
Jack didn’t know if the smile was friendly or predatory. He tightened his grip on her hand.
“Heiress,” Moray said. His voice was rough at the edges, resonating in the cave. It reminded Jack of splintered wood. “At last we meet face-to-face.”
“Heir of the West,” Adaira greeted him. “Thank you for coming. This is my husband, Jack.”
The Breccan’s eyes shifted, meeting Jack’s stare. “A pleasure,” Moray said, but his gaze returned swiftly to Adaira. She was the one he was interested in, and Jack felt his stomach knot.
“Is it not odd to you, heiress,” Moray said, “that you and I have breathed the same wind and walked the same isle, swum in the same tides and slept beneath the same stars, and yet we have been raised as enemies?”
Adaira was quiet, but Jack could feel her draw a deep breath. “Our isle was divided long ago by the decision of one of my ancestors, as well as one of yours. I have hope that Cadence can be restored, and I believe this trade is the first step to seeing the balance return. We have brought the best of the east as a sign of our goodwill. This is only a prelude to what we can offer your clan should peace be upheld.”
“And we are grateful for your benevolence, Adaira,” said Moray, and he sounded genuine. “Likewise, we have something to give to you, in hopes that it will be a worthy enough exchange.”
“Then let us make the trade,” Adaira said, but she hesitated. She couldn’t cross the line lurking beneath the water, and neither could Moray. Or, Jack supposed, they physically could, but doing so would sound alarms to both sets of guards. To Torin, pacing on the hill, eager for a reason to arrive, and to Moray’s guards, who Jack surmised were also not far from the coast.
“I’ve thought long about how we could safely partake in this first exchange without stepping foot off our lands,” Moray said. “Hence, this cave and this boat. I will put my goods in the boat and pass it over to you. After you take my offering, grant me yours, and I will pull the boat back to my side.”
Jack remained quiet as he stood beside Adaira, and they watched as Moray prepared his boat. He tied a rope to the stern and set his burlap bag in the hull. He let the rope go slack in his blue printed hands, and the boat began to float toward them. It sailed over the clan line, from western waters into eastern ones. Jack grasped the boat to hold it steady while Adaira opened the sack.