David paused, but he set down his materials. He began to pull off his gloves, finger by finger, until they dropped to the floor with a whisper.
Torin’s breath snagged in his throat.
David’s entire left hand was blighted. His skin was dappled blue and violet as if badly bruised. His veins were illuminated in gold.
Innes stared down at her husband’s hand, her face carved with both fear and anguish. She was so entirely unguarded in that moment that Torin felt he should glance away as she traced David’s fingers. As her hand trailed up his arm, then caressed his face. She leaned forward and pressed her brow to his, and they breathed the same air, the same worries.
“You have healed me, time and time again,” Innes murmured. “And yet I can do nothing to heal you now. It is a cruel fate, for you to die before me.”
David was quiet, but then he leaned back so he could meet her gaze. “There is something we can do.”
Innes closed her eyes. “You speak of Cora’s suggestion.”
“Our daughter, yes.” David began to tend to Innes’s wounded hand. Wiping away her blood, dabbing salve along the cut. Binding it in linen. “Innes? Innes, open your eyes. Look at me.”
Innes exhaled, but she opened her eyes. David traced the tattoos on her neck with his thumb, as if he knew their blue-inked story. As if those interlocking patterns were inspired by what the two of them had made together.
“Let her write to Sidra.”
Torin startled. This time, Sidra’s name was like a flame, melting through realms. He had seen enough in the west. It was time for him to go home and solve the riddle. Moray’s punishment would have to come through another, and Torin relinquished that old, bitter craving for vengeance.
He turned, leaving David and Innes behind.
But Sidra’s name continued to echo through him as he took to the western hills. It sang in his blood as he ran eastward.
Chapter 30
The shadows were long and cold in Adaira’s bedroom when the midnight bell chimed. Jack stood before the bureau, pouring water into a basin by candlelight. Thunder rumbled beyond the castle walls, and rain began to tap on the windows in a frantic rhythm that mirrored Jack’s pulse.
He felt rattled from the events of the evening.
His skin was clammy, his breaths shallow. He could still feel the sharp edge of Moray’s dirk at his throat. Jack tried to quell that memory as he cupped his hands into the water. He washed the perspiration from his face, but he couldn’t stop seeing Moray at the door. Moray overcoming him so easily.
“That’s the second time I’ve seen a blade at your throat, Jack.” Adaira’s voice was husky, sad. “I’m sorry.”
He reached for the plaid next to him and wiped the water from his eyes just as her arms came around his waist. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder.
“It was all for show,” Jack said. “He didn’t hurt me, Adaira. And it’s not your fault.”
She exhaled into his tunic. He could feel the heat of her breath on his skin, and he closed his eyes.
“Are you tired?” she whispered.
“No.”
“If I tell you a story, would that make you sleepy, old menace?”
He couldn’t help but smile. “Perhaps.”
“Come to bed then.”
Jack followed her to the bed, slipping beneath the covers. He lay on his back, eyes closed, and listened as Adaira settled close beside him. It was quiet for so long that Jack eventually cracked one eye open to look at her. She was sitting against the headboard, studying her nails.
“Where’s the story?” he asked.
“I’m trying to come up with one. It’s hard, you know. Finding a good enough story for a bard, one that isn’t going to bore him.”
Jack laughed. He turned to face her, his hand rushing over her bare legs. “Then perhaps I should tell one to you.”
Adaira’s breath caught, just as a knock on the door interrupted them.
She cursed and reluctantly crawled from the bed, Jack’s fingers drifting from her thighs. He sat forward, first annoyed, then worried, thinking a visitor at this hour couldn’t bring anything good.
It was Innes.
The laird stepped into their room. It almost seemed like the entire altercation with Moray had never happened until Jack met Innes’s gaze. He saw something dark and troubled within her.
He quickly rose from the bed.
“Your father would like to speak with you, Cora,” Innes said. “He’s waiting for you in my chambers.”
Adaira’s eyes widened. “Is something wrong?”