“I’m sorry, Mother. And grateful. I have a feeling I’m right.”

• • •

A small contingent of men-at-arms had been left behind to keep the household safe while Lily’s father was away searching. Three of these men now headed out toward the tower, accompanied by the household steward and a couple of brawny grooms. Lily watched without comment as they assembled. What did they think Ash—Brión, she had to start calling him Brión—was, some kind of fearsome monster? Or maybe they were afraid of the uncanny creatures some folk thought lived in and around the old tower, those mysterious beings that had kept the island untrodden by human foot for years and years. Until Brión dared venture there, and after him Lily herself. Chances were that cold and hunger and exhaustion had driven the young man temporarily out of his wits. Perhaps he had endured disturbing dreams in the tower, dreams so real-seeming that he had come to believe he was beset by danger. Now they would bring him out, and he could get warm and dry and receive the services of healers. He could be reunited with his family, and all would be well. And if he was the son of a chieftain, he would be an entirely suitable candidate for her hand. Even if he had gone hunting where he should not. No need to tell anyone that they had already met, and under the oddest of circumstances. They could let their friendship develop quite naturally.

• • •

After that, everything started to move quickly; almost too quickly for Lily. She had longed for Ash—Brión—to be found and freed. She had wished for him to come home with her, to find his people, to be rid of whatever burden he was carrying. Most of all, she’d wanted a future in which they could be together. Where they could in time become husband and wife. But even with the youthful hope of her sixteen years, she had not expected so much so soon.

Brión came back from the tower. The four men carried him on a board, covered by a cloak. He was so white he looked dead. Lily exercised all her will not to shriek and run to him; her whole body was filled with terror. “Still breathing,” said the head man-at-arms. “But only just, my lady.”

Lily’s mother bustled about, commanding her serving people as a leader might order an army. A warm bath, a warm bed, a quiet chamber, gentle hands. One message to be sent urgently to Lily’s father, and another dispatched to the distant home of the young man’s family, though birds could not be sent out with that before morning. Brión’s father was close at hand, conducting his own search; a runner would be sent to find him at first light.

There was nothing at all for Lily to do. She had no reason to be in the chamber where Brión was being nursed, and if she hung about the doorway, her mother might get suspicious. He was alive; that must be enough, for now. So she went to her own chamber and opened the shutters a chink, wondering if she might catch a glimpse of her father’s party riding back in.