A few paces away, someone cleared his throat. Lily and Ash released each other instantly and struggled to their feet, awkward in their wet garments. Before them stood the ferryman, holding an armful of dry wood and regarding them with a quizzical expression. “Kindle you a wee fire?”

“Oh, yes!” said Lily, and at the same moment, “No!” said Ash.

“Young lady might perish from the cold.”

“No fire,” Ash said. “Unless you can make a fire without smoke. Smoke would draw unwelcome attention.”

He was right, of course. Smoke rising from the island was sure to bring curious onlookers, since it was well-known that nobody ever set foot over here.

“I can,” said the little man, and proceeded to do so, every twig set just right, the whole arrangement circled by white stones that he seemed to find without really looking. When the wood was in place he crouched over it, and a moment later the heap was ablaze, crackling heartily. There was no smoke at all.

“Thank you,” Lily said, crouching close to the flames and reaching out her hands to warm them. “I brought you something, but I’m afraid it will be spoiled.” She unfastened her pack and reached inside for the sweetmeats. Curiously, the little bag that held them was quite dry, and when she peered in, the contents looked entirely unharmed by their dunking in the river. “Here it is.”

The ferryman accepted the small bag, opened it and sniffed deeply at the dainties within.

“It’s not meant as a payment,” Lily said. “More of a gift.”

“Tasty,” said the little man, and slipped the sweetmeats into his pouch. “Kind girl. Warm up quick and I’ll ferry you back over. No harm done.”

What was to be said? She had nearly drowned. She had endangered not only herself, but the man her heart told her was her one and only, her destined true love. If the ferryman offered safe transport, she had no choice but to accept. As for why he had not helped her before, when she needed him, the answer was simple. The wee man was fey. The fey did not think the way humans did; everyone knew that. “Thank you,” she said, feeling her eyes fill with foolish tears.

She unpacked her bag. Her plan had been to tend to Ash’s wounds herself, to salve and bandage them. But now that he had held her close, now that she had felt the thrill of that in her body, deep and dangerous, she thought it best not to offer. “I will leave these things for you. There’s food and drink too.”

Ash had gone oddly quiet. He sat staring into the small fire, his handsome features as somber as if someone had indeed drowned. What had she said to upset him? Was he angry with her for being so foolish? Perhaps she was quite wrong about this. Perhaps those feelings of longing were entirely one-sided.

“Ash,” she said after some time. “You could come too. Leave the island, go home, be safe. Will you tell me who you are? Who you really are? I could help you.”