“No,” Cassandra said again, her voice rising. “I’ve seen those pink ones before. I want the white one, Star.”

“You’re sure? So be it.”

He gave another tiny magic movement of his hands. In his left hand the pink pill remained, and he offered it to Mina, who took it and swallowed it without hesitation. In his right hand was the white pill, which Cassandra snatched from him. She swallowed it, then began to fumble in her pockets. Star seemed to be waiting, Mina couldn’t be sure, for some dancers moved close to her, and the air flashed light and dark, but she thought that Cassandra handed him some money, so the magic pills weren’t really a gift after all.

But the space was very whirly by then and the stone floor of the barn was starting to move. Before she could say anything, Star put one strong arm around her waist and began to move her away. She looked back once over her shoulder and saw Cassandra’s face in the distance, as still and pale as the moon.

Star led her outside to a quiet place, where the music was muted. He spread a quilt on the ground for her, a bright patchwork quilt, and Mina sat down. Star snapped his fingers, and a small dog appeared from nowhere. It crept onto the quilt beside Mina. Mina stroked its odd, bristling gray fur; the dog seemed very thin, timid, and docile. Her name was Dancer, Star said. Mina stroked Dancer’s delicate pointed muzzle; the dog crept closer and began to lick her hand. Mina felt a rushing powerful exhilaration; she felt she loved this little dog intensely; she felt some god had just reached down from the sky and made everything right in the world.

Star sat beside her, and Mina looked at his face. She was astonished that Star should single her out in this way, and she was even more astonished when she realized that for a while at least, he meant to stay.

“You have a hawk on your cheekbone.” He touched her face very lightly with his fingertips. “Your eyelids are gold. You’re beautiful, Mina.”

Mina stared at him. No one, not even her parents, had ever said such a thing before.

“I’m not,” she replied. “Cass is, but not me. Look—” She lifted her face to the firelight. “I have freckles, and red hair.”

“Cassandra is an ordinary girl. There are thousands of Cassandras. I like your skin and your freckles and your hair, Mina. In the firelight, it’s flames and red gold.”

Mina continued to stare at him. She was trying to place his voice, which wasn’t English, wasn’t American, wasn’t German or French accented. It seemed to be unidentifiable and uniquely Star’s own.

“Are you afraid?” he said suddenly, watching her eyes. “I’d know if you were, and I don’t think you are.”

“No. I’m not afraid. I feel—” Mina hesitated, trying to describe what was happening to her, and something was happening to her, she could feel it stealing its way along her veins.