In the moment of quiet that followed, when Moray Breccan’s story had ended and everyone in the chamber waited to see what she would do, Adaira remembered the spirits. It is her, they had said when they saw her on the shore and on the holy hill. It is her. They had known who she truly was. A girl of the west, raised by her enemies. Perhaps the folk had been watching her life, year after year, anticipating this moment.

“Will you come home with me, Cora?” Moray said again. “If you’ll come home, the Tamerlaine lasses I took will be returned to their families. Just as you were cared for in the east, we have cared for the lasses in the west. Come, sister. A better life awaits you with the people you belong to. Let this exchange be made without bloodshed.”

Torin approached the back of Moray’s chair. He didn’t wait for Adaira’s command; he gagged the Breccan with a hard jerk, and Moray winced.

But the silence was worse than the noise. For now Adaira could feel the full weight of everyone looking at her. Mirin and Frae. Sidra and Torin. Her guards. Moray. Jack.

She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know if she should acknowledge Moray’s claims or sneer at them. Adaira rose.

“Torin, escort our prisoner to the dungeons of Sloane,” she said.

She stood aside as Torin blindfolded Moray again and loosened the bindings that had kept him strapped in the chair. The guards surrounded and dragged him from Mirin’s cottage to the yard, where the horses were waiting.

Adaira followed, preparing to ride with them. She didn’t want to look at Torin, or Sidra, or Jack. She didn’t want to see the doubt and the suspicion in their eyes, didn’t want to know how this revelation of her blood would change their opinion of her.

“Adaira,” Jack whispered. She felt him take a gentle hold of her arm, turning her toward him. “Where are you going?”

She stared at Jack’s chest. She couldn’t tell if he was wearing his half coin. In fact, she had never seen it around his neck, wondering if it merely hid beneath his tunic or if he chose not to don it.

It didn’t matter.

She realized she would need to break their handfast. Jack had inadvertently bound himself to a Breccan. The truth was slowly eating through her, as if her past and her soul were a feast to ravage. Her mind reeled with the list of things she needed to do—should do—but her primary focus was getting Moray secure in the holding.

“I’m escorting the prisoner with Torin,” she said in a flat tone.

“Then let me come with you,” Jack said.