The princess, concerned for her fay friends, set out to find them, only to discover that every fairy on the island had vanished. Far and wide she searched, high and low. In the treetops she found no friends . . . but there was a house in the boughs she’d never seen before, one made of wood creaking and ancient, bearing the name of the fairy king over its lintel. In the pools she found no friends . . . but there was glinting metal winking up at her from the depths, the very shade of the fairies’ eyes. Not to be tempted, the princess pushed onward. In the forest glens she found a wonder that dazzled her eyes. Trees with fragrant bark peeling in fairy-wing curls. Crocuses with petals like fairy gowns. Purple-spiked flowers like fairy crowns. But none of her friends were there.

She kept on, toward the far-looming mountain from whence it was said that all fairies came. But the closer she drew to the rugged rocks, the heavier her feet grew. And the louder came the voices that used to sing along with the fairies’ pipes. The very bones were singing, inviting her to sing with them. She knew, though, that to give in—to sing that song—would mean becoming naught but bone herself.

So heavy were her feet by the time she climbed up the first rock that she could scarcely go any farther, and the winds blew cold now against her. Shivering, the princess tucked herself into a cleft of the rock and cried for her lost friends.

Still, the voices sang. “Look toward the birds,” they chanted over and again. “Look to the birds, Lizza.” The princess tilted back her head and watched an eagle soar overhead. But no help came for her from his widespread wings.

Libby stepped away, trying to shake the words of the story from her mind. She took in one more breath of the lovely air and then spun back toward her room. She’d dress, make a cup of tea, perhaps grab a bite to eat, and then go back to the beach. The day of rain had allowed the slight burn on her nose to lessen, so another day of sun on it shouldn’t hurt too badly—and this time she’d be certain not only to wear her hat, but to keep it adjusted to actually protect her.

She also meant to obey Mama today and greet the other families staying in the cottages dotting the island. Though, granted, not for the reasons her mother wanted her to. Rather, she meant to ask them all if they’d seen or met Beth. Mabena, meanwhile, would begin canvassing the locals in Hugh Town and Old Town, maybe going so far as Little Porth and Trenoweth, if there was time. If not, then Trenoweth and Pelistry would both be her assignment for another day.