He followed her trail. She had been alone on the coast before choosing to climb a knoll, where it became harder for Torin to follow her path. He examined the grass and the rocks, wondering what had prompted the child to leave her siblings on the sand.

A flash of red caught his eye.

Torin crouched, at first fearing it was blood, until he moved the grass aside and saw it was only a flower. Four crimson petals, veined with gold. It was beautiful, and he had never seen anything like it before.

He frowned as he studied it. He knew the eastern landscape well; he was familiar with the plants that flourished on this side of the isle. Yet this flower was odd and out of place, as if a spirit had purposefully left it here to be found.

He wondered if it marked a portal to the other side.

Gently, he scooped it into his palm. The blossom had been lying on the ground, already sheared, and he wondered if this had been what Catriona had seen, what had prompted her to climb the knoll.

Torin searched the area again, combing for evidence of where she had gone next. He succeeded in finding a few small steps heading to the hills of the isle. Her bare feet had crimped the grass, but then it was as though she vanished. There was no further trace, no sign of footsteps, save for another loose red flower, sitting like a drop of blood on the ground.

Torin recovered it, careful not to crush the petals in his hands. He searched the dirt, the nearby stones, the tussocks of grass, for a small doorway. Surely, the spirits had opened a portal, inviting her into their domain. Where else would she have gone?

He felt a strange tug in his stomach. It was fear, something he had learned to tame long ago, but he decided that he needed to see Maisie with his own eyes.

He gave his guards orders to mark the trail and continue scouring the area for more footsteps and doorways, and he rode home.

He was relieved to find Sidra at the kitchen table, herbs spread before her like a map he could never read. She was preparing tonics for her patients, and her sable hair was caught in a messy braid.

She glanced up the moment he entered.

“Torin,” she breathed. “Do you have news?”

He hated the hope in her eyes. He shut the door behind him. “It’s Catriona Mitchell. She’s been missing since this morning. I’ve found a partial trail, as well as something that I need your assistance on.”

At once, Sidra set down her pestle and met him in the center of the room. He carefully retrieved the two red flowers from his leather pouch, setting them into her waiting palm.

“Can you identify this flower for me?” he asked, hopeful.