She had learned nothing new from Brión about the night he was rescued. They had spoken of a hundred other things, a thousand, but on that matter, as on the future, he’d had nothing to say.

“You’re afraid,” Lily said now. “Afraid to tell me.” She expected him to deny it; if she’d observed anything about boys, it was that they did not like to be thought cowards. “I love you. If you’re in some kind of trouble, I want to help you.”

“If you knew the truth,” Brión said, “you too would be afraid. And I don’t want to draw you into that. How can I put you at even more risk? I shouldn’t have stayed so long here. It was selfish. I wanted to be with you, to be close to you, but . . .”

“Brión,” said Lily, gritting her teeth, “just say it. Just tell me. It’s to do with what happened that night, isn’t it? Before I found you?”

He muttered something.

“What did you say?” Suddenly she was shivering too. Wishing she had not pushed this; wishing she had waited for him to be ready to tell.

“You will despise me,” said Brión.

Lily could think of nothing to say.

“There was a woman,” Brión said in a whisper, glancing this way, that way. A little cold breeze came up out of nowhere, ruffling the grasses. “A beautiful woman. On a white mare, with silver jingling on the harness. We were out hunting, and I saw her, and . . . I followed her. Rode after her. Left my companions behind. I was dazzled, Lily. Out of my wits. I did not consider that she might be fey.”

In Lily’s shocked mind, everything began to make a terrible kind of sense. “Go on,” she said, keeping her voice calm.

“I rode deeper and deeper into the woods. I could see her ahead, the white shadow that was the horse, the tall figure riding, with her fair hair all twisted and twined with jewels and her silken gown in more colors than anyone could find names for, flowing around her with a life of its own. The paths grew narrower; I had to get down and lead my horse. And still she went on, just too far ahead for me to reach her, but close enough for me to catch glimpses of her now and then. I followed her all the way to the Bann, and when she rode into the ford, I did the same.”

“But . . . your horse . . .”

“He shied and threw me into the water. He bolted. I hardly noticed. The woman was on the island, standing motionless by her own horse, waiting for me. The moonlight shone down on her; she looked like a goddess. Lily, I am ashamed to tell you this story. So ashamed of my weakness.”

Lily said nothing, simply waited.

“My thoughts had room for nothing but her. So I waded over to the island. Wet, disheveled, with any dignity I’d had completely gone, I walked up to the lovely woman and stammered a few words. My name. My admiration. Something foolish.”