“Croi?” he says uncertainly.

“Yes! How could you not recognize me earlier, when you first saw me?” Croi frowns at him. “You looked through me as if I were air. That hurt.”

He ducks his head, but not before she sees his reddened cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know your true form. I only know that you were a brownie before your Glamour started breaking.”

“How did you figure it out?” she asks him.

She studies him for a moment and then reaches out and pokes him. He is so satisfyingly real and warm. He is still dressed in a creamy white shirt made of the finest material Croi has ever seen. His long legs are encased in snug black pants. Small white flowers, this time with red centers, nest in the mass of black curls on his head. An air of sorrow clings to him; despair is present in the shadows under his eyes and in the hollows of his face.

“Do you want to know what I look like right now?” she asks him. It’s only fair that he gets to see her when she has been wanton with her gaze.

“Can I?” he replies, his eyes lighting.

Feeling brave, aren’t you?

“What’s the worst thing that could happen? He won’t revile me because I’m ugly.”

He won’t do anything else to you either.

“I never expected him to.”

“First, can we go somewhere else? If the Tine King finds me missing, he is going to go on a rampage. He has become very annoying since the last time I talked to you. I’ll tell you why when we get to a place we can be alone.” She looks around, trying to pick a direction in which to walk.

“I’ll take you to one of my favorite places in the Caisleán,” Irial says. He holds out a hand; Croi looks at it and then at him.

Don’t.

She takes his hand.

“I’ve never held anyone’s hand before,” Croi says, bringing their linked hands up. His fingers are as long as hers, tipped by pearlescent nails. She squeezes his hand and grins. “It feels good. No wonder human lovers always held each other’s hands.”

She looks at him and finds him staring at her with even redder cheeks than before.

“Oh, I don’t mean that we’re lovers. I know you are in love with someone else. I just…” She trails off, not knowing what else to say. Her cheeks are hot, and the flustered feeling makes her stomach queasy. “Don’t worry. I have no ideas about you.” She coughs. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he says, instead of replying to her question.

The surroundings around her ripple, and Croi is deluged by Irial’s magick as it wraps around her for a second before retreating. She looks around to find that they are now on top of a green mountain, looking over a sea that glints silver under the light of a full moon. The long grass on the mountain sways under the persistent attentions of a breeze. The air smells sweet.