Sidra glanced down at her hands, where her golden wedding band gleamed on her finger. She and Torin had had no qualms about exchanging a blood vow at their wedding. They spoke the ancient words and cut their palms. Their hands were bound together, wound to wound. Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. It was a vow not easily broken, although Sidra was beginning to wonder how long it would last without Maisie.

“The Breccans may deny you a guard,” Sidra said, watching Adaira. “Or your father. Or even a handmaiden. But they can’t deny you a husband.”

Adaira flushed, as if her mind had already gravitated toward such thoughts. She had been in no rush to marry in the past, which Sidra thought wise. But it was time for the future Laird of the East to take a partner. If she was going to forge a difficult and potentially bloody peace, she needed someone to carry her through it. To walk at her side. To confide in. To comfort her on long, lonely nights.

Sidra didn’t have to ask who Adaira was considering.

She already knew.

Adaira gave herself the rest of the day to think about it. A day she spent roaming the hills, searching for a sign. A day that produced no answers from Torin and the guard, despite their interviews and observations. When Adaira realized she wasn’t going to waver and that time was against her, she decided to move forward with her plans.

She waited until the moon rose, thinking she would be braver at night, and dressed simply in a dark dress and cloak. She rode to Mirin’s croft, following the stars.

She dismounted at the road and left her horse hobbled by a tree. Quietly walking through the yard, she located Jack’s bedroom window. He was still awake, as she hoped he would be. The candlelight seeped through his shutters, and she walked to them, a moth drawn to the fire.

Even so determined, she hesitated when she reached her destination. She stood at the window and debated with herself.

I can’t believe I’m doing this, she thought and finally knocked.

She was tempted to turn and run when she heard him cautiously unlatch his shutters. They swung open, at last revealing Jack. His scowl melted into disbelief when he saw it was her.

“Adaira?”

“I need to have a word with you, Jack.”

He glanced about his room before returning his gaze to her, standing in the moonlight. “Now?”

“Aye. It can’t wait.”

“Well, come in then. But be quiet. I don’t want you to wake my mum.” He extended his hand to her, and Adaira accepted it, shocked by how warm his fingers were as they entwined with her cold ones.