His first thought was that a raid was unfolding, and he stumbled to his feet, tangled in the blanket. The room spun until he reached out to lean on the wall, belatedly realizing that it was the middle of the day. The Breccans never came in the light, and he could hear his mother calmly speaking just beyond the door.

“He’s in bed,” she was saying. “What can I help you with, captain?”

“I need to see him, Mirin.”

Jack was still leaning against the wall when Torin opened the door.

“Asleep at this hour?” the captain said brusquely, but Jack could tell something wasn’t right. Torin began to search his room, beneath the bed and in his oaken chest.

“I was until you called,” Jack said. “Is something wrong?”

Torin turned to him with an impatient flip of his hand. “Lift up your tunic.”

“What?”

“I need to search your back.”

Jack gaped at him but consented, pulling up his garment. He felt Torin’s cold hand skate across his shoulder blades before tugging Jack’s tunic back down. The captain was gone before Jack could muster another word.

Mirin and Frae were standing by the loom, concern etched on their faces as Jack emerged. A few of the guards were finishing a search of the cottage, and they left in a whirlwind.

“What was that about?” Jack wondered.

Mirin glanced at him, wide eyed. “I don’t have the slightest idea, Jack.”

He frowned and returned to his room, opening the shutters. He caught a glimpse of Torin, striding across the yard to examine the byre and then the storehouse.

Jack reached for his plaid, buckling it at his shoulder. He tethered his boots to his knees and nearly collided with Frae in the common room.

“Jack, can I come with you?” she asked.

“I think it’s best you stay with Mum for now,” he said gently. He didn’t want her to worry, but he could see the fear creeping across her face.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Mirin demanded. “You’re ill!”

He didn’t know how she knew that, aside from the fact that he had overslept and looked pale. Or perhaps she sensed it in him—how music had drained a portion of his health.

Jack briefly met her gaze as he stood on the threshold. “I’m seeing if I can assist Torin. I’ll be back in time for supper.”

He shut the door before Mirin could protest, jumping over the garden wall to intercept the captain.

Jack took one look at Torin’s face and knew it was bad.

“Another lass?” he asked.

Torin couldn’t hide his grief. The sunshine washed over him, unforgivably bright. He refused to make eye contact and said, “Maisie.”

Jack drew a sharp inhale. “I’m sorry, Torin.”

Torin continued his brisk walk. “I don’t need sympathy, I need answers.”