“Oh, good! Mum said you probably did now, being on the mainland, but we weren’t sure of it.” Frae took a mitt and unhinged the kettle from its hook over the fire and carefully poured Jack a cup of tea. He was baffled, taken off guard by how eager she was to serve. How confident Frae was, how easily she knew her way around the kitchen and the croft. He clearly remembered being eight and begrudging every single chore Mirin had set upon him, stomping and whining when he had to gather the eggs and set the table and wash the dishes afterward.

No wonder she had been so eager to give him up to the mainland.

“Thank you, Frae,” he said, taking the warm cup in his hands.

Frae set the kettle down and brought him a pitcher of cream and a pot of honey, then hurried to set the rest of the table, humming as she went. Mirin eventually joined them, carrying the cauldron of oats with her. She filled their bowls with parritch, and Frae finished her tasks by setting out bacon and mushrooms, boiled eggs, fruit, sliced bread, and a crock of butter.

It was a feast. Jack worried they had made it just for him.

Their first meal together was awkward. Mirin was quiet, as was Jack. Frae kept parting her lips as if she wanted to say something, but then, too nervous to speak it, filled her mouth with oats instead.

“Do you go to school in the city every day?” Jack asked his sister.

“No, just three days a week,” she said. “The other days I’m here with Mum, learning her craft.”

Jack’s gaze slid to Mirin. Mirin met it beneath her lashes, but her eyes were guarded. Their argument last night hung between them like gossamer.

“Have you seen Adaira yet?” Frae asked.

Jack nearly choked on his tea. He cleared his throat and attempted a smile. “I have, actually.”

“When did you see the heiress?” Mirin was the one to now cast an inquisitive glance at him, and Jack ignored it, reaching for a slice of bread.

“I saw her yesterday morning.”

“Were you friends with her?” Frae continued, as if Adaira were a spirit herself to be worshiped. “Before you left for school?”

Jack spread a hunk of butter on his bread. Mirin scowled at his excess. “I suppose you could say that.” He took a huge bite, hoping talk of Adaira would end.

But his mother continued to watch him closely, seeming to realize who, indeed, had asked him to return. He hadn’t studied Lorna’s ballad at all the night before, as he was supposed to have done, and he still felt a sting of worry when he imagined playing that eerie music.

“Will you eat supper with us tonight?” Mirin asked, breaking off his stormy thoughts. She cradled her teacup in her long fingers, breathing in the steam.