Jack found Adaira in the library, sitting at her father’s desk. Books and papers were spread before her, as was a collection of broken quills. Her father’s signet ring flashed on her hand. Jack had noticed the first time she wore it, because Adaira rarely wore jewelry. Her hands were often bare, and only the half coin that connected her to him typically hung from her neck.

She looked as though she hadn’t slept, and he paused, uncertain what to say. He had stayed in his castle chambers the past two nights, not only because Sidra had ordered him to do so, but also so that he could remain close to Adaira. He had sent a guard to remain with Mirin and Frae in his stead, unwilling to take any chances.

“You look better today,” Adaira said, her eyes quickly looking him over. “Are you going to speak with Mirin?”

Jack nodded. He could see her desire to bring the girls home simmering in her mind. She had delayed the trade with Innes because of her father’s death, but the exchange was supposed to happen on the morrow. They might have the Orenna and know the location of the girls by the next evening.

Everything was coming together at last, and yet Jack had never felt such heavy misgivings.

“I’ll send for you when I’m finished,” he said.

“Good. Thank you,” Adaira said, before returning her attention to the papers.

Jack watched her for a beat longer. She had scarcely spoken to him since her father died. He had wanted to play a lament in the hall after the burial, to comfort her and the clan, but found he was too light-headed to do it. He had wanted to go to Adaira in her chambers at night, to be with her in her grief, but discovered he was too anxious to approach without her invitation.

And so he had done nothing but lie in his bed, forcing down Sidra’s tonics in hopes that they would restore him.

Realizing that Adaira was preoccupied with her task, Jack turned and departed. He went to the stables, requested the gentlest horse available, and then rode a slow, plodding gelding to his mother’s land.

Mirin greeted him at the door, as if she had known he was coming.

“We don’t need a guard here at night, Jack,” she said. “Although I appreciate the thought.”

Jack dismounted and walked into the kail yard. He didn’t want to have this conversation. This was his last true moment of ignorance. After this hour had shed its minutes, he would know the truth about his blood and what his mother had done, and it would change him.

“I need to have a serious conversation with you, Mum,” he said.