He was tall and lean with dark blond hair and striking, angular features. A blue plaid was draped from his shoulder. On his forearms, woad tattoos danced in interlocked patterns. An old scar shone on his cheek, cutting through his braided beard. He carried a burlap sack and a narrow boat made from a hollowed tree trunk.

In some ways, Moray Breccan was exactly as Jack had envisioned him. A warrior, with stories on his pale skin. But in other ways, his appearance was surprising. He was dressed similarly to Jack—tunic and plaid and belt, with soft boots tethered up to his knees. If not for the proud display of blue and the tattoos, he might have passed as one of their own. And then came his smile. A grin spread across his face the moment he beheld Adaira, even as the tide whirled between them.

Jack didn’t know if the smile was friendly or predatory. He tightened his grip on her hand.

“Heiress,” Moray said. His voice was rough at the edges, resonating in the cave. It reminded Jack of splintered wood. “At last we meet face-to-face.”

“Heir of the West,” Adaira greeted him. “Thank you for coming. This is my husband, Jack.”

The Breccan’s eyes shifted, meeting Jack’s stare. “A pleasure,” Moray said, but his gaze returned swiftly to Adaira. She was the one he was interested in, and Jack felt his stomach knot.

“Is it not odd to you, heiress,” Moray said, “that you and I have breathed the same wind and walked the same isle, swum in the same tides and slept beneath the same stars, and yet we have been raised as enemies?”

Adaira was quiet, but Jack could feel her draw a deep breath. “Our isle was divided long ago by the decision of one of my ancestors, as well as one of yours. I have hope that Cadence can be restored, and I believe this trade is the first step to seeing the balance return. We have brought the best of the east as a sign of our goodwill. This is only a prelude to what we can offer your clan should peace be upheld.”

“And we are grateful for your benevolence, Adaira,” said Moray, and he sounded genuine. “Likewise, we have something to give to you, in hopes that it will be a worthy enough exchange.”

“Then let us make the trade,” Adaira said, but she hesitated. She couldn’t cross the line lurking beneath the water, and neither could Moray. Or, Jack supposed, they physically could, but doing so would sound alarms to both sets of guards. To Torin, pacing on the hill, eager for a reason to arrive, and to Moray’s guards, who Jack surmised were also not far from the coast.