The entire household was assembled in the courtyard to watch us go. Nobody said, Good luck, or, You can do it. Nobody clapped me on the shoulder or offered a reassuring smile.

Senach was pale and shaky, quite unlike his usual self. When he spoke, his voice was choked with emotion. “Farewell, Lady Geiléis. Our hearts go with you.”

There was a murmur from the others, serving folk and guards alike. The men-at-arms made a gesture I had seen before, laying a clenched fist over the heart.

“Come, then,” said Geiléis. “Onchú, lead the way. Do you wish to block your ears, Mistress Blackthorn?”

I shook my head. I would need all my senses alert.

The forest felt different this morning. The day was clear and bright, but everything was somehow . . . veiled. Uncertain. It seemed to me that pathways might shift, trees switch places, sun abruptly turn to storm. The magic was stronger, as if the land knew this was a time of change. I wondered if the little folk were watching as we passed, thinking this might be the end of their long servitude. Remembering the ferryman, I asked, “How do we get across to the island? I’ll do better in the tower with dry shoes.” It was hard to keep my voice steady; already, my heart was going like a war drum.

“We have a boat, Mistress Blackthorn,” said Donncha. “It’s been long out of use, but the men have made it watertight. It will take all of us at once.”

“I see.”

We reached the ford. Today, the water looked shallow enough for a person to wade safely all the way over. But it was deeper around the island, and with so much at stake it would be foolish to take unnecessary risks. Onchú led us downstream to the point where the distance to the island was least, and there indeed was a boat, no tiny fey craft this time but a sturdy rowing boat drawn up on the bank in readiness. I stepped in; Geiléis did the same. The men pushed the vessel into the shallows, then climbed aboard. Donncha rowed. Onchú was alert to danger, scanning the woods all around as we crossed the narrow channel. The creature’s voice was piercing, painful to the ears. Could he see us coming?

The boat scraped onto the other shore, and we were on the island. I accepted Donncha’s help to get out with my feet dry; beside me, Geiléis had allowed Onchú to assist her. Now he offered her a handkerchief, and I saw that she was weeping. She turned away to wipe her eyes, then reached to untie her cloak and toss it into the boat. There was I in my uncouth garb of working gown under leather fighting garments, my hair covered by the cap the men had made for me, the ax on my back. And there was she in a gown befitting a princess from an ancient tale. It was simple and flowing, its hue a delicate green, its decoration a border of darker ribbon. The garment fitted her perfectly, subtly showing the curves of her body. Now, with one impatient hand, she untied the fastening that held her hair in a single plait, and shook the long fair tresses out over her shoulders. If I had doubted up until this moment that she was Lily, I doubted it no longer.