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“Brought you these,” he said, looking pleased with himself as he held up a fish in each hand. “Caught them myself.”

Rose thanked him and called him to come in.

I fetched a large bowl to receive his gift.

By the deep colour and luminescence of their rainbow-hued scales, I could tell they had passed out of streams from Faerie.

We were used to eating food watered by Faerie springs—the aftereffects were limited to heightened senses for a few hours and vivid dreams that same night—but mortals like Jack, who had not grown up at the border, might have a more troublesome experience.

“Have you some for yourself?” I asked.

He nodded. “Ate some yesterday too. Jory caught them.”

“How did you sleep?”

“Sleep?”

“Did you have strange dreams?”

His brow furrowed. “How did you know?” He stared at the fish. “Jory said it was the mushrooms I picked, though I was sure they were regular puffs.”

“Nothing is regular so close to the border,” I said. “It’s a wonder you didn’t sleepwalk into a faerie ring.”

He looked troubled. “I dreamed I woke up pinned down by a branch,” he confessed. “I could hear the prettiest singing I ever heard, and I longed to find it, but I couldn’t move.”

“It was not a dream,” said Rose, shelling peas.

“How do you know?” said Jack.

“The tree was protecting you.”

He ruffled his thatch of hair, thinking this over. “Strange,” he murmured.

“What shall you eat when you go into Faerie?” I asked.

He looked blankly at me. “What should I eat?”

“Nothing from Faerie.” I examined the fish, wondering which herbs to use.

“If you cannot eat food from the border without ill effects, you will not be able to stomach so much as a berry on the other side. Mother says that’s likely what happens to most of the adventurers who never return—they eat of the land and lose their senses. ”

Jack looked alarmed. “What should we do?”

“Go home like a sensible fellow.”

“Don’t have a home,” Jack said wistfully.

Rose took pity on him. “Don’t you have parents?”

He shook his head, looking like a shaggy dog as his hair fell into his eyes. “Never knew them. Jory raised me.”

“No grandparents? No aunts or uncles?”

“None that would own us, Jory says.”

“Well, you must gather supplies before you cross over,” she advised. “Sir Oswain has brought sackfuls of wayfarer bread, raisins, and dried apricots.”

She caught my eye and blushed. Jack was too absorbed in his thoughts to notice.

“Wonder how we can get wayfarer bread,” he mused.

“Has your brother got this map he speaks of?” I asked.

Jack looked uneasy. “He’s having some trouble getting it, but he’ll have it very soon. Perhaps today.” He pushed his forelock out of his eyes. “He’s been gone a good while.”

“Gone where?”

Jack shrugged. “Didn’t say. Said I was to catch fowl or fish for dinner. I’m not good at snaring, but I’m a fair catcher of fish.”

Mother came in, smelling otherworldly and looking weary as she sank into her chair.

I felt equal parts of concern for her tiredness and vexation that she would not tell me what she had been doing to make her so tired. I was growing impatient of mysteries and prohibitions.

When Jack repeated all he had told us, she heaved herself up from her chair and went into the garden, returning with a large bouquet of what Rose and I had always called stingingwort .

As children we thought it a bad-tempered herb, for it stung our skin if brushed against, and made our eyes water if we sat too near it.

As we grew older, it no longer affected us.

“Add it to your cooking and drinking water,” Mother advised.

“ Ouch !” Jack yelped, withdrawing his hand as he tried to take it.

“The stinging sensation will counter the effects of food grown near Faerie,” she promised. “Here, I’ll wrap it in a rag to preserve your hands. No, don’t sniff it, child—it will irritate your eyes.”

Jack’s eyes began streaming, and he sneezed several times.

“You’ll grow accustomed to it,” Mother said, pressing the bundled herbs into his hands before sinking back into her chair.

Jack was making ready to leave when a noise from the path drew us to the window. One of the ruffians streaked past with a look of terror on his bearded face. Several others followed, and last of all lumbered a portly man, his weathered face bearing the same expression of fear.

“Wonder what they’re running from?” Jack said, blinking back tears as he wiped his sleeve across his streaming nose. This was a mistake, for he used the arm that held the stingingwort , brushing the end of his nose with the leaves.

Rose and I pushed him out the door before his sneezing fit began again.

“Thank you for the fish,” I called after him.

He held out the herbs. “Don’t— achoo —think I— choo —wa— choo —want this!”

“Do as Mother says,” Rose advised. “You will feel better soon, I promise. Wait a moment! ”

She returned with a handkerchief soaked in rosewater to soothe his eyes.

“Please bring it back,” she said as he pressed it to his face. “It took all winter to make the pretty edging.”

Jack departed. We could hear him sneezing all the way to the gate.

But there was little peace and quiet after he had gone.

From his cherry tree perch, the jackdaw squawked, “ Here they come ! Here they come !”—his announcement quickly followed by another adventurer rushing past on foot, then another on a mule. A soft haze of smoke drifted by on the breeze.

“What is going on?” I turned from the window to Mother, who was accepting a cup of fennel tea from Rose.

“Dwarves,” she replied without looking up.

“Did you see them?”

“There have been a few coming out of the quarry. It would not be the first time they’ve burned down the camps of travellers who get too close to them.”

“But some of those riders were from Sir-what’s-his-name’s camp,” I argued. “They aren’t camped near the mines.”

“Most likely they wandered too deep into the woods. There are some spiteful creatures about at present. That is partly why I want you and Rose safe at home.”

“What creatures? What else have you seen?”

I thought she would not answer, but after a moment’s pause she lowered her cup and looked at me.

“The coming of the nobleman has roused a deal of interest,” she said slowly, as if carefully choosing her words.

“Among the fae?”

“Some of them. Those who rebel against the queen. ”

“Why should a nobleman be a threat to them?” Rose asked.

“It has always been said that the downfall of the rebellion will come through a royal mortal.”

“But he is not a prince or a king,” Rose pointed out. “He’s the son of an earl.”

“There are no earls in Faerie,” said Mother. “One is either royal or common. The son of an earl is not a commoner.”

I frowned. “Have you seen only common fae, or royal?”

I did not expect an answer, but to my surprise she replied, “Both.”

Rose looked up from her cooking.

“I knew it,” I said triumphantly. “You go into Faerie, don’t you? It’s unheard of for royals to cross the border.”

I could not quite read the look Mother gave me. It was not anger. If anything, it was sadness.

“Only when I must,” she said. “These are unusual times.”

“Tell me,” I begged, dragging a stool near her chair. “I know these are unusual days, I feel it! Where did you get the magic to cross the border?”

She did not answer my last question, and I felt it fading from me even as I spoke the words. But she reached a hand out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. She was a kindly mother, but rarely affectionate.

“Things may change a great deal, my Lily,” she said quietly. “For all of us.”

“What kind of change?” Rose asked, as eager for an answer as I was.

“That depends on many things. I am not a fortune teller. There are choices to be made by many people. ”

“I do wish,” I said, unable to keep a note of frustration from my voice, “that you would give a straight answer. Every time you explain something, you only make more questions fly up in my mind.”

“The day you run out of questions, Lily,” said Mother, “will never dawn.”

Annoyed at another evasive reply, I got up and noisily set about laying the table for dinner.