“You said you’d seen the fey in these woods.” He did not look at her, but kept his gaze on the flames. “When? Who did you see, small folk like him, or . . . ?”

His tone troubled her. It was as tight as a bowstring.

“I see them quite often when I’m out walking, though never very close, and never for long. Not wee folk; these are more like human men and women. Only . . . only I can tell they’re different.”

“Have you seen a—” Ash began, then fell silent once more.

“I should go,” Lily said. But she did not rise.

“Rain coming,” put in the ferryman after a while. “Go soon, yes?”

Rain. Rain might be useful, Lily thought. “Ferryman,” she said, “could you take both of us back over? Ash and me? I know the boat is small, but you could ferry us one at a time.”

“What will you pay?”

“I will pay,” said Ash before Lily could answer. “For her to go safely across, and for you to see she gets home unharmed. Here.” He held out his hand with something on the palm; a small, shining thing that must have been concealed in his clothing, or around his neck perhaps, for there was a fine cord attached.

The wee man examined it. “Sure?” he asked, turning a beady stare on Ash. “Quite sure?”

“I’ve nothing else to offer. Please take Lily safely home.”

He did not want to come with her; he did not want to leave the island. And yet he’d sounded distraught at the idea of losing her to the river. Lily wondered if young men thought quite differently from young women. She surely did not understand this one. First he put his arms around her and filled her up with warm feelings; then he sent her away.

“It’s best,” Ash said now. “My presence imperils you, Lily. Look what just happened—you were a hair’s breadth from drowning. If I came with you, danger would follow us both. There’s no escaping it.”

“I don’t know what you mean. All I want to do is help you. I—” No, she would not say, I love you. She had known him only a day. But she said it in her heart, and with her eyes.

“Just let him ferry you across, and go home, and don’t look back,” said Ash. “Promise me.”

This was cruel indeed. And unfair. “I won’t promise,” she said with such firmness as she could muster. “I can’t turn my back and forget this ever happened. Not unless you can tell me, truthfully, that you never want to see me again.”

Ash looked down at the ground. He said nothing at all.

Lily reached out and took his hands in hers. “Let me help you,” she said. “Please. Whatever the danger is, I will face it with you.”

Ash drew a deep breath and let it out in a kind of shudder. “I can’t, Lily. I can’t go, and I can’t explain. I’m sorry; sorrier than I can say. Go now, please.” He released her hands; took a step back. Now he was looking at her, and his eyes returned the feelings that were in her own heart. “Please, Lily. Leave the island; forget me.”