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I sighed, and went with her.

Four days later, I met Cillian.

I'd been ranging in the pine wood to the southeast of our homesite to gather dry, fragrant pine needles to stuff new pallets for my mother and me. I left off with my basket half full when a light rain began to fall. I didn't mind the rain, but it wouldn't do to gather damp mast. I headed for home with the basket slung over one shoulder and my bow and quiver over the other. Silvery raindrops slid from the needles overhead. Birds twittered in the boughs, telling one another all was well with the world.

If I'd been paying attention, I might have sensed him before I saw him, but I wasn't and didn't. It was plain luck that I came upon him from behind—luck, and the fact that I moved quietly. He was crouching behind an outcropping of stone that overlooked our hearth, peering over the edge. The sight startled me enough that I let my basket fall to the ground with a soft thud.

"Who's there?" He scrambled to his feet and whirled—but I had already summoned the twilight.

A boy.

I guessed he was a couple years older than me. I couldn't see his coloring properly in the dim twilight, but he was fair-skinned. He turned his head from side to side, one hand hovering over the hilt of a dagger.

"Who's there?" he called again.

I unslung my bow and nocked an arrow. "Who asks?"

His eyes widened. "Dagda Mor!" He glanced all around for the source of my voice, but there was nothing to see. He had heard me speak only because I willed it. "Where are you? Will you not show yourself?" When I didn't answer, he stooped carefully and picked up a bulging satchel. "Come, I mean no harm. I'm Cillian mac Tiernan of Innisclan. I've brought an offering." He untied the drawstring and opened the satchel. "See? Fresh peaches."

The peaches smelled ripe and heady and wonderful.

I hesitated.

"You don't want them?" Cillian tugged the drawstring closed. "All right, then. I'll take them away."

"Just leave them and go."

"Ah, no." He shook his head. Even through the gloaming, I could make out the glint of curiosity and bravado that lit his eyes. "Don't the Old Ones love a bargain? Show me your true form. Just a glimpse. I'll take my leave, and the peaches are yours."

I really wanted those peaches.

I let the twilight fade, keeping the arrow trained on him.

"Dagda Mor!" He stared at me. In daylight, his hair was reddish brown. He had grey eyes and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. "Are you flesh or spirit?"

"Flesh."

"And this is your true form?"

"Aye." I gestured with the arrow. "You may put down the peaches and leave now."

Cillian continued to stare at me. "You're just a little girl!"

I was beginning to get annoyed. "Well, and so?"

A wide grin crossed his face. "You don't imagine you could hurt me with that toy bow and bit of elf-shot, do you?" I do.

We regarded one another. "Why do you not vanish?" he asked, curious. "I've had my glimpse, have I not?"

"I can't," I said irritably. "You're looking at me." So?

"It doesn't work that way. You can't hide from an eye that's already on you."

He chuckled. "Then you must have a right great fondness for peaches."

I loosed my bowstring. The arrow thudded into the bulging canvas satchel. Peach nectar oozed around the shaft. I had another arrow nocked before he could react.

"Are you mad?" he shouted, holding the satchel in front of him like a shield. "I come bearing a gift!"

"And spying!"

"Well, you didn't have to show yourself, did you?"

"Apparently I did, if I wanted the bedamned peaches!" I shouted back at him.

"You shot the bedamned peaches!" For the space of a few heartbeats, we glared at one another. Then Cillian sighed and lowered the satchel. He took a step backward, raising both hands. "Truce, eh? I spoke you fair. I mean no harm. I wanted only to see what was here."

I lowered my bow. "Why?"

"I was curious." His tone was frank. "All these years and no one's ever had so much as a glimpse. No one imagined there was a child."

My heart