Finbar made a little sound. My whole body stiffened in alarm. His voice was different; wrong. It was not the cry of a healthy, hungry baby but a curious, painful rasp. No normal child made a sound like that. Finbar must be sick. He was choking, he couldn’t breathe . . . I sprang up and hastened to the basket, my heart racing. I looked down, an image of my baby brother still fresh in my mind—the delicate fingers, the soft eyelids, the peachy skin and rosebud mouth. My heart gave a single wild thump and was still. Now I was cold all over. Finbar was gone. All that lay in his little bed was a curious jumble of sticks and stones, leaves and moss.

The baby couldn’t be far away. Breathe, I ordered myself, forcing down panic. He couldn’t even be out of the room, because he’d been in the basket, I’d seen him with my own eyes, and I’d never gone further than the doorway. I’d had Finbar in sight the whole time, even when I stepped outside the door. I’d made sure of it. Except . . . except for a moment or two, when my attention was on Cathal. Except for when he kissed me. Even then, nobody could have walked past me unseen—I’d been right by the doorway. My brother must be here. He must be.

I began a frantic hunt, knowing all the time that there was nowhere in the chamber that a baby could be successfully hidden for more than a moment. Under the pile of towels. Behind the bench. In the alcove. Nothing. My heart was pounding. My skin was clammy with terror. How could this be? How could he be gone? I’d hardly taken my eyes off him. This must be a bad dream. Let me wake up now, please, please. It was only after I had spent what seemed an age scrabbling about looking in every corner that I remembered the sound I had heard from the basket. Sticks and stones do not cry out. Maybe the whole thing had been a delusion. Perhaps the Fair Folk had sent me a malign vision of some kind. I made myself take two deep breaths, then approached the basket again.

The little pile of sticks and stones still lay there on the pale linen of the under-blanket. No vision, then. My heart dropped down, leaden again. Finbar was gone. I must call for help, I must tell them . . .