She was absently staring at the distant forest when Innes and a trio of guards appeared. Their horses splashed through the river and onto the bank, approaching at a walk.

This is it, Adaira thought, rising. This is the end and the beginning.

Her heart was beating vibrantly in her chest as her mother’s horse came to a halt on the hill. Innes’s eyes swept over her, as if she could see the tears and the heartache that Adaira hid beneath her skin.

“Are you ready to come with me?” the laird asked.

“Yes,” Adaira replied. “My husband Jack would like to accompany me, if you approve.”

Innes arched a fair brow, but if she was annoyed at the thought, she hid it well. “Of course. So long as he knows life in the west is far different than it is in the east.”

“I do know, and I go willingly,” Jack said.

Adaira turned to find him standing in the garden, his bag slung across his shoulders and his ruined harp tucked beneath his arm. Mirin and Frae remained on the threshold to see him off, the lass weeping into her mother’s skirts.

Jack moved forward to stand beside her, and that’s when Adaira noticed that a change had come over Innes. The laird was regarding Jack with cold, narrow eyes.

Adaira’s breath caught. Did Innes know that Jack was the son of the keeper? The son of the man who had given her daughter away? Suddenly, those earlier feelings of foreboding returned, like a strong tide rushing around her ankles. Adaira didn’t know if Jack would be safe if the Breccans came to know of his true heritage. She was a moment away from drawing Jack into a private space, to tell him to keep his paternal link a secret, when Innes dismounted.

“I would like a word with you, Adaira,” the laird said. Her tone was reserved but heavy. Adaira felt herself bend to its command, and she saw the storehouse, a few paces away.

“We can speak there,” she said, and Jack shot her an uneasy look as she led Innes into the small, round building.

The air was warm, dusty. Once, not long ago, Adaira had stood in this very place with Jack.

“Your husband’s a bard?” Innes said tersely.

Adaira blinked in surprise. “Yes, he is.”

Innes’s brow furrowed.

Jack knew something was wrong.

He had felt it the moment Innes Breccan had looked at him, scrutinizing the harp in his hands.

He knew something was wrong, and yet he tried to keep his mood calm and expectant as he paced the yard, waiting for the laird and Adaira to emerge from the storehouse. Eventually, Innes stepped out and strode to her horse without granting him a second look. Adaira motioned for Jack to join her. Setting down his harp and dropping his bag, he walked to meet her inside the storehouse.