Adaira frowned. “Where?”
“In the Aithwood. I passed a sickened tree after I had crossed over.”
“My parents haven’t mentioned anything about this,” she said. “Nor has anyone else.”
Jack regarded her gravely. “Then there’s a chance that it has just spread to the west. Or that your parents know about the blight and are keeping it secret.”
The latter possibility seemed most likely. As Jack fixed them each a bowl of parritch, Adaira thought about how she could initiate such a conversation with Innes. Would Innes be at all open to discussing such a sensitive matter with her?
“So Torin doesn’t want the Breccans to know the east is sick?” Adaira said, taking the bowl from Jack. He had put an ample helping of berries and cream on top, and she took her spoon and stirred it together.
“Yes,” Jack replied. “But that was before I knew the west is also suffering. Which Torin still isn’t aware of. I think that’ll change his mind.”
“Hmm.” Adaira leaned forward to refill her teacup. The chemise slipped from her shoulder, down to her elbow.
“What’s this?” Jack’s voice was sharp.
“What? You want to take all the tea again?” she countered, not sure what he was talking about until she saw that he was gazing at her exposed arm and the line of stitches that held her wound together. “Oh. That. It’s nothing.”
But Jack was tracing it with his fingertip, his eyes dark and gleaming as he studied the stitches.
“It doesn’t look like nothing,” he said. “Who did this to you?”
“It was an accident.”
“By whose hand?”
“David,” Adaira replied. “We were sparring in the rain.” She regretted the words as soon as she uttered them. They conjured images of Jack and his father in the arena. Adaira could see the same thought crossing Jack’s mind as his expression turned inward, as if he were trying to shutter his emotions.
Adaira set aside her parritch.
“I want to free him,” she said. “By all accounts, he should be. He’s won enough rounds in the culling to be liberated.”
“Innes doesn’t want him to be accepted back into the clan,” Jack said in a careful tone. “I understand her reasoning, given what Niall did.”
“I’ll speak to her,” Adaira promised.
They finished their breakfast in a stilted silence. Finally, Adaira could think of no better way to break the somber mood than with a ride across the wilds.
“The day is getting away from us,” she said, approaching her wardrobe. She let her chemise fall to the floor, feeling Jack’s gaze on her skin. Glancing over her shoulder, Adaira met his stare boldly. “Get dressed, Jack. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
All of the west felt like a graveyard, full of hungry, languishing spirits. Torin stepped mindfully, but he still managed to draw far too much attention. The ferlies in the grass trailed him, licking their lips. The heather shivered when he passed, and the rocks refused to give way to him. The earth spirits here were suspicious of him, and Torin didn’t know what else to do but be careful and to keep his eyes peeled for both Adaira and the Orenna flower.
He eventually came to a river—he wondered if it was the same river that flowed into the heart of the Aithwood and on to the east—and was just about to cross it when a spirit rose up from the water with a snarl.
Torin yanked his foot back to the bank, nearly losing his balance. He blinked in shock as the spirit manifested, built like an old woman with blue-tinged skin, lank white hair, and bulging, milky eyes. She sniffed and then smiled, revealing a horrifying cache of needlelike teeth. Her fingers were long and taloned, and gills fluttered in her sinewy neck.
“You dare to cross my domain, mortal man?” she asked.
The hair rose on Torin’s arms, but he managed to keep his voice level. “Yes. Forgive me if I offended you, spirit of the river.”
She cackled. It was the sound of a nightmare, and perspiration began to trace Torin’s back.
“Why are you here in our realm?” she inquired, sidling closer to the bank, the water flowing around her knobby knees. Torin wondered whether she could leave the river; if not, the bank was his only hope of not being devoured by her. “It has been a long time, indeed, since one of your kind was here.”
Torin hesitated. He hadn’t possessed the foresight to ask Hap if he should reveal his purpose to other folk. It could be dangerous to let such gossip flow amongst the water spirits, but the west seemed to be a place that was desperate for hope.