She paused, wondering how much she should push this topic. Innes had glanced away from her and was gazing into the fire, giving Adaira the impression her mother was feeling uneasy. But it was Adaira’s hope that if the east and the west could work together as one to solve the blight, then other collaborations might be possible. Such as the trade Adaira had previously striven to establish, an initiative that had unfortunately failed when Moray’s kidnapping spree came to light. The past few weeks she had thought that dream was dead, but she could feel it stirring to life again within her, eager to reignite.
Establishing trade between the clans would eliminate the raids. If the Breccans could fairly obtain what they needed from the Tamerlaines, then peace would become a sustainable future for the isle.
“What if I invited Sidra to visit?” Adaira continued. “That would give me the chance to see her again and to start building rapport between the clans. She could also be available to collaborate with David on finding a potential cure.”
David was quiet, but he didn’t seem averse to the idea. He was watching Innes closely, though, as if he could read the fears and thoughts racing through his wife’s mind.
“I don’t know, Cora,” Innes finally replied. “Sidra is the eastern laird’s wife, is she not? If something were to happen to her here, on my soil, then it would start a war that I don’t want.”
“Then let me invite Torin as well,” Adaira said, knowing that sounded unfeasible. She could hardly envision it herself. Both Torin and Sidra visiting the west. Being able to see them, embrace them. Speak to them face-to-face.
The mere longing nearly crushed her.
“So not only would I have a bard on my lands,” Innes said wryly, “but I’d also have the eastern laird and his wife, all beneath my roof.”
Adaira grinned. “What could possibly go wrong?”
Innes sighed, but she almost returned the smile. “Many things.”
“But will you consider it?”
Innes was opening her mouth to reply, but she was interrupted by a commotion in the outer corridor. Adaira turned to watch the door fling open with a bang. The first thing she saw was Jack—his dark hair with its quicksilver streak, his blanched face, his eyes that met hers instantly with a glimmer of warning. She saw the dirk held at his throat, controlling his movements. A dirk held by a blond-headed, wild-eyed man she didn’t recognize at first glance.
Adaira shot to her feet, her heart pounding fire into her blood. All she could stare at was that blade, shining at Jack’s throat.
“Unhand him, Moray,” Innes said in a calm, cold voice.
Moray.
The name cut Adaira to the quick, and her gaze shifted upwards. Her brother was already staring at her, waiting for her to look at him. As soon as their eyes met, he removed the dirk from Jack’s throat and gave him a slight shove forward.
“Don’t look at me like that, Cora,” Moray said. “I wasn’t going to hurt him.”
Adaira strode across the room before she could gather her thoughts. She grasped Jack’s arm, drawing him protectively behind her. But her relief did not soften her. There was lightning in her blood, and she was one breath away from tearing into Moray. With her words and her hands, with anything that she could pick up and hurl, when Innes came between them.
“What are you doing here?”
“That’s how you greet your heir? Your only son?” Moray asked. He still held the dirk in his hand, waving it about carelessly. “I thought you’d at least be happy to see me, Innes. I’ve come a long way.”
Innes’s jaw clenched. “You’re currently under the Tamerlaines’ watch. If you are here, then they have permission to come and hunt you.”
Moray laughed. “They aren’t capable of such a feat, I assure you.”
“I don’t think you understand the full extent of what you’ve done, Moray,” Innes said, “and what the ramifications will be.”
Moray was quiet, but he didn’t appear repentant or worried. He looked beyond Innes again, his eyes tracing Adaira.
“I’ll ask you again,” Innes said, stepping aside to block Moray’s view. “What are you doing here?”
“You’d come between me and my sister?” Moray asked. “If not for me, you’d still think she was part of the wind! You’d be fooling yourself into believing she was blowing her wings through your hair when you rode the wilds. You wouldn’t be standing here with her, filling her up with all the poison you make, weaving those blue jewels into her hair and—”