“Remember,” says the small one. “Important.”

“I will. Thanks.”

And he’s gone, just like that. Quick as a snap of the fingers, before I remember the whistle they gave me. Would have liked to ask about that, what it’s for, what rules there might be about using it. Too late now.

“Best walk on,” I say. “Want to make an early start. Keep hold of Ripple’s collar for a bit.”

Flannan’s just staring at me. Dumbstruck, that’s the word.

“Fey folk,” I say. “In the woods around here. Seen them a couple of times. Harmless.” How much should I tell? Not too much, that’s for certain. “Blackthorn knows. But not Lady Geiléis. Blackthorn said not to tell her, or anyone.”

“Astonishing.” He shakes his head. Looks as if he’s testing to see if he’s lost his wits. “Incredible. I have never seen . . . I did not imagine . . .”

“That they’re real? Might not be. Might be the curse putting ideas in our heads. Making us see what isn’t there.” Making us doubt our own minds. Making us lose our good judgment. Seems best to keep this bit to myself. “Don’t know why you’re so surprised. Scholar and all. You must know hundreds of tales. And the tales are full of wee folk.”

“The work I do doesn’t require belief,” says Flannan, “only accuracy and a capable hand with the pen. I did not expect beings from ancient lore to step out of the woods and engage me in conversation. Allow me to be a little surprised, Grim.”

“Not up to me, is it?”

“Did you hear what he said? Midsummer Eve. So they know Lady Geiléis wants Blackthorn to do something that day. Did Blackthorn tell them? Did you?”

Trying to remember if I was like that, first time I saw the fey. So excited I was near jumping out of my skin. Don’t think so. With me, it was more of a slow wonder. Like a warmth spreading through. “The fey know all sorts of things,” I say. “Chances are they know the old story, the one that’s in your document. But they don’t always tell.”

“Couldn’t they be made to tell?”

I give him a straight look. “If that’s the way you like going about things, then maybe.”

“Why hasn’t Lady Geiléis asked them? She must know about them.”

“We should be getting on.”

“Why, Grim?” Flannan was insistent.

“You’d need to ask her. Lady Geiléis. Thing is, though, if you do that, she’ll know we’ve seen the wee folk. Talked to them. We promised them we wouldn’t tell.”

“But—”

“Speak to Lady Geiléis about this and you’ll make Blackthorn very, very angry. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”