"What about the well?"
"I'll send guards tae close it taenight." He moved toward where his horse waited, still saddled from their earlier ride. Magnus swung up into the saddle, then extended his hand down to her. "Come on."
Ada took his hand, let him pull her up. That time she didn't try to maintain distance. She settled against his chest immediately, acutely aware of the torn fabric and exposed skin beneath.
Magnus wrapped his cloak around her, covering the tear. The gesture was practical, protective, but Ada felt it like a caress.
"Better?" he asked, his voice close to her ear.
"Aye," she managed. "Thank ye."
He nudged the horse forward. They moved slowly at first, picking their way through the darkening landscape. The torn skirt made sitting difficult, with Ada having to adjust constantly to keep the fabric from tangling in the stirrups or exposing more than it already did.
"Hold still," Magnus said after the third time she shifted. "Ye're goin' tae fall off."
"I'm tryin', but the tear..."
"I ken." His arm tightened around her waist. "Just... lean back and let me handle it."
Ada obeyed. She let her weight settle fully against him, felt his chest rise and fall with each breath. The cloak cocooned them both, holding in warmth and giving off the faint scent of leather and salt.
They rode in silence for a while. The path back to Dun Barra was longer than Ada remembered, winding through rocky terrain that grew treacherous in the fading light. Magnus guided the horse with practiced ease, never faltering even when the path narrowed to barely more than a goat track.
Ada had spent most of her life avoiding men, fearing them, keeping herself small and quiet to escape their notice. But riding through the gathering darkness with Magnus's solid warmth at her back, his arm steady around her waist didn't feel dangerous.
It feltalmostsafe.
The realization unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
"Ye did well today," Magnus said suddenly, his voice low near her ear. "With the villagers. They trusted ye."
Ada's breath caught at the unexpected praise. "They were desperate. They would've trusted anyone who offered help."
"Nay. They trusted ye because ye earned it." He paused. "That's nae the same thing."
Ada turned her head slightly, trying to see his face in the dimness. "And ye?"
Magnus was quiet for a long moment. The only sounds were the horse's steady footfalls and the distant crash of waves against stone.
"Aye," he said finally. "I did."
"Why?"
Another pause.
"Because ye had nay reason tae lie. Nay reason tae care about people ye'd just met, in a village that's nae yer home." His arm tightened fractionally around her waist. "Ye could've stayed at the keep, safe and warm. But ye didnae. That tells me somethin' about who ye are."
Ada's throat felt tight. No one had ever spoken to her like that—like her choices mattered, like her actions revealed character rather than defiance. Her father would have called her foolish and would have locked her away for daring to leave without permission.
"I think someone put somethin' in the water deliberately," Ada stated quietly, changing the train of her thoughts.
Magnus went still behind her. "What makes ye say that?"
"Because natural poisons dinnae spread that fast or that evenly. And the smell—whatever it is, it's nae somethin' that would occur naturally in a well." She paused. "I cannae prove it. But I think someone wanted those people sick."
"Why?"
"I dinnae ken. Maybe someone with a grudge against the village?" She stopped, uncertain whether to voice her next thought.
