“So there’s a reason your speaking name is Mother Crone. You should dress your age—you know, robes or something instead of this skateboarder look, which is way pathetic for a woman your age, even if you do wear a glamour that makes you seem twenty-something.”

Galfreya hadn’t changed clothes since she’d seen Geordie off.

“What makes you think it’s a glamour?”

“Oh, come on. Everybody knows that fairies go for the sleek, young look, no matter how many years they’ve piled on.”

“Unlike shadows who are always what they seem.”

The stranger looked uncomfortable for a moment, then shrugged. “Whatever.”

“So the way I dress is what’s troubling you,” Galfreya said. “Why should that be any of your business?”

“Well, that’s not all,” the stranger replied. “What’s with you fairies and your enchantments and how you need to have humans amuse you, no matter what havoc it might play in their own life?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your fiddler,” the stranger said. “The one you keep drawing back here, week after week, with your music and your revels and your oh-so sweet talk. Why can’t you leave him alone?”

“Why do you care? If you’re in love with him, you’re not doing a very good job of showing it because he’s never said word one to me about you or anyone else.”

“Oh, please. I’m not into incest. He’s my brother.”

“Your brother.”

The stranger nodded, a challenge in her eyes. Galfreya met her gaze with a look as steady, then slowly nodded.

“Yes,” she said. “I see that he is.”

“So tell me, why won’t you leave him alone? I know you don’t have a long-term interest in him because your kind never does. You just use people up and move on to the next.”

“That’s neither fair nor true.”

“So, do you love him? Are you ready to give up immortality to be with him? That’s how it works for your kind, right? There has to be a sacrifice. Or maybe you’re trying to get him to give up his world to be a puppet fiddler in yours, always ready at your beck and call.”

“Do you have to work at being so annoying?” Galfreya asked.

“You haven’t seen me annoyed yet, sweetheart. And you didn’t answer my question.”

Galfreya stared at her, trying to keep her anger in check. The stranger was infuriating, but she was Geordie’s sister, her own anger obviously born out of love. So Galfreya was willing to cut her a little more slack. But only a little.

“I love him as you do,” she said finally. “As a sister.”

The stranger raised her eyebrows. “Do fairies usually sleep with their siblings?”

“Fine,” Galfreya said. “Then as a friend.”

Now it was the stranger’s turn to study her.