Emboldened, he met Torin’s stare. “You meet every stray who crosses the clan line with instant death?”

“I wouldn’t have killed you, lad.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Torin was quiet, but he didn’t break their gaze. The firelight flickered over his rugged features, but there was no regret, no hint of shame in him. “It depends. Some stray Breccans are truly fooled by the spirits’ mischief. They misstep and they mean no harm. Others are scouting.”

“Have there been any raids recently?” Jack asked, dreading to learn if Mirin had been lying to him in her past letters. His mother lived close to western territory.

“There hasn’t been a raid since last winter. But I expect one will come soon. Once the cold arrives.”

“Where did this most recent raid happen?”

“The Elliotts’ croft,” Torin replied, but his eyes were sharp, as if he were beginning to piece together the lack of Jack’s knowledge. “You’re worried about your mum? Mirin’s farm hasn’t been raided since you were a lad.”

Jack remembered, although he had been so young he sometimes wondered if he had dreamt it. A group of Breccans had arrived one winter night, their horses turning the snow muddy in the yard. Mirin had held Jack in the corner of their house, one hand pressing his face into her chest so he couldn’t see, the other wielding a sword. Jack had listened as the Breccans took what they wanted—winter provisions and livestock from the byre and a few silver marks. They broke pottery, overturned piles of Mirin’s weavings. Quickly they went, as if they were underwater, holding their breaths, knowing they had only a moment before the East Guard arrived.

They hadn’t touched or spoken to Mirin or Jack. The two of them were inconsequential. Nor had Mirin challenged them. Calm she had been, inhaling long draws, but Jack remembered hearing the beat of her heart, swift as wings.

“Why have you come home, Jack?” Torin asked quietly. “None of us ever thought you would return. We assumed you had created a new life for yourself, as a bard on the mainland.”

“I’m only here for a brief visit,” Jack replied. “Laird Alastair asked me to return.”

Torin’s brows arched. “Did he now?”

“Yes. Do you know why?”

“I think I know why he’s summoned you,” Torin said. “We’ve been facing a terrible trouble. It’s been weighing heavily on the entire clan.”

Jack’s pulse quickened. “I don’t see how I can do anything about the Breccans’ raids.”

“It’s not the raids,” Torin replied. His eyes were glazed, as if he had seen a wraith. “No, it’s something much worse than that.”