Adaira was quiet, but she held her brother’s gaze. She didn’t know what to say; his words had overwhelmed her.
“But if we do this . . . it needs to be tonight, Cora,” Moray continued, drawing hope from her silence. “If you are with me, then I need you to give me a sign that you have the courage to betray Innes. When I’m brought out onto the sand, I need you to take a flower from your hair and throw it down to me. To everyone watching, it will seem like a mere gesture of luck. But I will know it means you are ready to rise. When I kill Oathbreaker, I want you to plunge your dirk into Innes’s side. Then shove her over the balcony.”
“You want me to kill the laird in a very public spectacle,” Adaira said.
“The clan will only respect you for it. It will also cause chaos,” Moray explained. “Which will enable me to get away.”
“And her guards will kill me instantly.”
“No, they won’t. At the very worst, you’ll be wounded. You’ll most likely be shackled and imprisoned. By then, my men will have rallied and we can liberate you.”
Adaira closed her eyes and sighed into her palms. This conversation was the last thing she had ever expected.
“Cora?” Moray called her back to the present.
Slowly, her hands fell away. She opened her eyes to stare at him.
“Are you with me?” he asked.
She already knew her answer. There had never been a moment of doubt, no moment when she needed to consider which path to take. But she didn’t want Moray to know it. At least, not yet.
“Give me this evening to think about it,” she said. “You’ll have my answer tonight, when I see you in the arena.”
In the cold, northern wing of the castle, Jack waited for his father in a small, windowless chamber. The simple room had a glazed hearth, a threadbare tapestry on one wall, and a table with two straw-backed chairs. Dinner had already been delivered on wooden plates. Roasted pheasant, herbed potatoes, spiced pears, carrots in browned butter, and a bannock still warm from the oven. Jack watched the steam rise, trying to temper his expectations.
Niall would be arriving any moment. And Jack still wasn’t sure what he wanted to say to his father. All he knew was that Innes had given them an hour together, and that the culling would commence close to midnight.
The fire in the hearth made the room stiflingly warm, and over its crackling dance, Jack could hear distant footsteps drawing closer. A heavy tread in the corridor, the clang of shackles.
Niall was almost here.
Jack stood, staring at the door. Arched pale wood, an iron handle shaped like a leafy vine. When it finally creaked opened, he saw a guard. And then Niall appeared, standing on the threshold, grimy from the dungeons.
The guards unlocked the manacles on his hands, but they left the ones on his ankles, which would keep him from running should anything dire happen, like an escape attempt. Niall took a stilted step into the room, and the guards shut the door behind him.
Jack stared at his father, his heart pounding. He was waiting for eye contact, for a sound of acknowledgment. For anything, but Niall solemnly stared at the floor. His lean and haggard face was set like stone. His auburn hair was bright and tangled, his skin pallid from weeks without sun. He was freckled and scarred and covered with woad tattoos.
It was strange to stand in the same room with him. It almost felt like a dream that refused to break. This was the man his mother had loved in secret. The man who had defied his own laird to carry Adaira east. The man from whom his life had come. They were linked together by invisible blood-forged threads, and Jack could nearly feel them tugging on his lungs when he breathed.
Does he plan to stand there the entire hour? Jack soon wondered, with a twinge of irritation as the awkward silence stretched on. Why does he refuse to look at me?
But then it hit Jack as he watched his father rub the raw places on his wrists. Niall was anxious, ashamed. The last time they had seen each other had been in the arena.
“Would you like to sit?” Jack asked, indicating the table.
Niall finally glanced up, studying the dinner spread. “You didn’t have to go through so much trouble for me.”
“It’s no trouble,” Jack said, tamping down his emotions before they warbled his voice. “I wanted to see you again.”
I wanted to speak with you alone. I wanted to feed you. I wanted to ensure you have the confidence to win tonight.
Jack sat down first, hoping if he occupied himself with the food, Niall would feel comfortable enough to join him at the table. Slowly, he did. Jack could see him at the corner of his eye, approaching the table hesitantly. The clink of chains, his long shadow rippling over the floor.