He wilts a little in his seat.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers. ‘I know I ask too many questions. Dad always says—’

‘We lost my sister, two years ago,’ he says. ‘That’s what we lost. We lost Thorn.’

‘Oh, Yanny,’ I manage, shuffling up close to him as Zara does the same on the other side, trying to find words and failing.

‘What happened?’ asks Zara after a long silence.

‘She got ill,’ he says. ‘We thought it was just a cold, but it got worse so quickly, and nobody could help. By the time we realized it was shadow sickness, it was too late.’

‘Shadow sickness?’

‘It spreads,’ he says. ‘It starts in the trees, when they don’t get enough light, and from there it spreads to the fae and the other creatures. Nothing survives without the trees. Thorn loved playing in the canopy. We weren’t supposed to because it’s hard to tell when a tree is sick from up there. We only noticed it afterwards – and by then, it was too late.’

‘Isn’t there a cure?’

‘No. Sometimes people recover,’ he says. ‘But when we discovered the tree, it was already dead.’ He looks out into the kitchen, but his eyes aren’t seeing anything there. ‘Dead trees are like poison to fae, especially when they’ve died because of the shadows,’ he says. ‘The tree sprites are quick to notice normally, but it was just a young elm, not bonded with any of the sprites. It was already dying when Thorn touched it.’ He lifts his shoulders. ‘So. Now you know.’

My father’s shadows killed his sister.

How would he even look at me if he knew what I really was? If he knew that maybe I could have fixed this years ago, if Nan and I had just kept going . . .

‘Stop that,’ Yanny snaps at me.

‘What?’

‘That look. Every time I mention shadows, you get all mournful and sorry. Did you bring them here? Did you make them? Did you send them to kill trees, and young fae?’

My throat is tight with a river of tears, but I swallow them.

‘No.’

‘So stop it.’ He sighs, shoving his shoulder against mine. ‘Please.’

‘OK,’ I say, biting my lip to stop myself from saying sorry again.

Zara looks from him to me, but even she doesn’t have the right words. She just shoves herself up closer to Yanny on the other side and tucks her arm through his.

Zara and I hold hands through the forest on the way home, and though we are flanked by Yanny’s parents with their faelights, there’s a constant shudder down my spine that won’t let me rest. I stare into the darkness between the trees, and I stare at the trees themselves for signs they might be sick.

How would I know?

I am fae, and I know barely anything. I don’t know what to say to this fierce, bright couple as they stalk soundlessly through the undergrowth, their eyes flecked with amber, every muscle of their bodies ready to strike and defend. To protect us.