If the Forbidden Wood had seemed a quiet, solitary place before, now it positively heckled her with hisses, gurgles, growls, and howls. Siofra didn’t have time to consider Mr. Paorach or Maeve’s warning as she bolted down the path. What was wrong with this forest? She’d felt so welcome and safe.

She burst into the glen, calling out, “Lysander! Lysander, please hurry.”

He immediately appeared out of the air. “What is it, Siofra?” His eyes narrowed, and he leaned towards her, sniffing. He continued around her, sniffing as he walked.

“Lysander, are you smelling me?”

He grabbed her arm. “Where did you meet a troll?”

Siofra’s jaw went slack. Could Mr. Paorach truly be a troll? “What do you mean?”

“Answer, Siofra. Where did you meet a troll? Can’t you hear the cacophony of discordant voices? Certain trolls are not welcome here.”

“I…I…uh…is that why the forest was hissing at me?”

“Of course. You’re in danger! Where is the troll?”

“But I don’t know any trolls, unless…”

“Unless?”

Siofra strode to the fallen log and sank on the edge. “Mr. Paorach, the banker, has been wanting to court me. He has a very offensive odor, and he’s always trying to—well, never mind. I was rude to him, and Lady Gretchen forced me to ride in the carriage with him this morning. That’s why I’m late. But Kelley said Mrs. Sgot wanted me to carry a magic coin because the troll would be more interested in that, than me.” She nodded, resting a finger on her chin. “It may have worked because he said nothing during the entire ride, and he’s usually most insulting.”

“Mr. Paorach is a troll. That’s why he smells.” Lysander stuck his hand inside the neck of his shirt. “Here. Wear this.”

When his fist opened, a glittering green jewel dropped from a silver chain.

“I cannot accept jewelry from you.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not a gift, and it’s not jewelry. It’s protection magic. The troll can’t take you anywhere you don’t want to go.”

“What about the wolves?”

“As I said yesterday, the wolves will no longer bother you. They didn’t know you were already spoken for…uh…had already spoken with me for permission to travel the woods.”

“What about all the other fantastical creatures who might eat me or otherwise maim my person?”

He jiggled the chain, emphasizing the pendant.

“So, I merely hold that aloft as I walk down the path and exclaim, ‘I have permission! I have permission!’ I don’t see—”

“Of course not. It’s enchanted—just never take it off.”

“Never? There are times when I…um…I get wet.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “You may even bathe with it. Never take it off. You might forget to replace it. Never take it off, Siofra Blàrach.”

“Stop chanting that as if you’re putting a spell on me.” She leaned her head forward so he could slide the chain over her head and felt gusts of wind lift her hair. “Are you…putting a spell on me?”

“Do I need to? Never take it off.”

Her eyes widened. She’d been jesting about the spell. “Could you?”

“You did give me your name. Look at my face, Siofra. Magical person.”

“Right. I forgot. You seem so normal.”

“Magic is normal. It’s you who are abnormal.” He watched as she tucked the jeweled pendant inside her shirt. “Wait. What is the troll always trying to do?”

“Did you really just remember that?” There was no way she could articulate what it felt like to be pawed by Mr. Paorach. She shook her head and pulled out the coin. “See? A gold coin. Where would Mrs. Sgot get gold? She’s been our cook since before I was born and lives in a tiny room at the rear of the kitchen.”

“She’s probably a brownie. Does her skin have a brown tint and many wrinkles?”

“A brownie! Like the type of elves who enjoy domestic chores? They’re real?”

He nodded, plucking the coin from her hand. He sniffed it, turned it over, then spun it on the palm of his hand. “This is more powerful than I thought. Keep it.” He handed it back.

“I wish I had something of value to give Mrs. Sgot in return. She can ill afford to part with a gold piece.”

Lysander reached in his pocket and removed a small red drawstring bag. “Offer her this.” Before she could ask, he added, “It’s ground hawthorn leaves…with a bit of magic.”

“And why would that impress her?”

He reached in his pocket again then offered her a small round bowl. “This will impress her. Royal honey. She’ll know what to do with the hawthorn.”

“You keep a fair number of objects in those pockets.”

“The pockets are bottomless.” He looked to the sky and back to her face. “You should return.”

Siofra groaned. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Truly?”

“What I mean is that I don’t wish to face Lady Gretchen. By now, she’s heard that I told Mr. Paorach I never want to see him again. She’ll be very angry. There are three months remaining on my bereavement, but she seems set on marrying me off as soon as possible.”

When he reached for his pocket, Siofra clutched his arm with both hands. “While I appreciate your desire to lend aid, I won’t use magic against humans. I must learn to navigate my life without relying on the manipulation of magic. It’s different with Mr. Paorach. If he really is a troll, he has an unfair advantage over us and we need help.” The admiration in his eyes brought a flush burning up her throat to her cheeks. “I suppose I should leave. If I’m too late, she’ll have even more reason to be angry.”

Lysander slipped something in her hand. “It isn’t that I want you to control Lady Gretchen with magic. It’s just that it appears very likely that Mr. Paorach has already used magic to persuade her thinking. You’ve got to break the spell, or she’ll continue to push you at him.”

Siofra turned away from him to perch on the fallen log, not wanting to return home but not willing to think of Mr. Paorach as a troll. She closed her eyes against the pleading in Lysander’s eyes but felt him sink on the log beside her.

“Do you smell honeysuckle?” she asked.

“Don’t attempt to shift my focus, Siofra. Trolls enjoy two things, gold and eating people.”

“Aach! Mr. Paorach is a widower with four children. He may smell, but—”

“The children are probably changelings meant to allay suspicion from his true nature.” Lysander took her hand. “We must talk.”

But Siofra didn’t want to talk. For two days, her fondest wish had been obtaining answers to her questions, and now she was afraid of those answers.

As if aware of her trepidation, Lysander squeezed her hand. “You wanted to know. It’s for the best, much better than dying. You said this banker is a widower.”

“He’s been married twice before.”

“Twice, Siofra, and now he’s after you. Do you know why he’s a banker? The gold. Trolls are obsessed with gold. What did you say he called himself?”

“Paorach.”

“Ahh…flaunting his power. Has anyone gone missing from the village?”

“Not really. I mean, occasionally young men disappear, but it’s generally thought they leave for London. You’re not suggesting they’ve been eaten?”

“Paorach means power. What does your name mean?”

“I…don’t know.”

“There are times when a human child is taken from its parents and exchanged for a fairy or elven child—a changeling. Sometimes, when human parents lose a child, and there is an elven child with no parents, that child is given to the humans.”

“I don’t see what—”

“Your name means changeling. Were you adopted? Did your parents find you in a basket outside their door?”

She shook her head. What he was saying was madness! “You’re saying some…elf…dumped me in a doorway? That I have no real family?”

“Elves always have family. They’re elves.”

“Well, that explains everything.” She tore her hand from his and jumped off the log. “I cannot hear this. I won’t.”

“Siofra, think.” He came to stand beside her. “The Forbidden Wood opens to you. Have you once forgotten me when you sleep? You are not human. I guessed your name because the forest knows you. Changeling.”

“Then I truly don’t belong anywhere.”

Lysander held up one hand and snapped his fingers. Instantly, Siofra saw things she’d only dreamed about. Had her dreams been real places?

A stone bridge had formed over the stream. On the other side of the water, Siofra saw so many strange forms walking around. Probably more elves, and diminutive fairies surely, from their sparkle and diaphanous wings. Other creatures she couldn’t name, large, misshapen, and lumbering past the bridge. But it wasn’t merely the people. Thatched cottages, and was that a flying griffon in the sky?

“It’s lovely. It’s so…lovely!”

Lysander’s smile warmed the coldness that had taken hold in her heart. “You could stay…here.”

Her gaze darted to that shimmering world. Most characters seemed intent on one particular location, but it appeared to be no more than a cottage, though much larger than the others, with white limestone walls, thatched roof and a doublewide, exceptionally tall door that enabled even the largest of beings to pass through. Why was it so popular?

A sudden vision of Maeve, Mrs. Sgot, and Kelley darted through her thoughts. Her head whipped back around to face Lysander. “But what about my village? What if those men didn’t travel to London as we assumed, and the troll…ate them?” Tears welled in her eyes. “What of the other young women? Will he make them all his wives as he devours the entire village? We must stop him!”

Lysander took her hand and squeezed. “We will. We just need a plan.”

“A plan, yes.” She thought of all the fairy tales she’d read. “Aren’t trolls rather dim-witted? We can outsmart him.”

“Generally, yes, but he’s been in your world for a very long time. Over a decade of your time. If he’s hoodwinked your entire village, he seems to have learned a few things.”

“You’re probably right. Though he smells outrageously, as a banker, he does engender respect.”

“We will tread lightly.”

Siofra studied the world past the stone bridge and sighed. If only she could… She gasped. “Was that the stone bridge that he guarded?”

“It is. He was so troublesome, we banned him from our realm. Now the bridge has a new watchman.”

“You? That is your job?”

His mouth twisted as he grimaced. “Not exactly, but right now you must return home. It’s dangerous—”

“Yes, I know. It’s dangerous to be in the Forbidden Wood after dark. I don’t see why. You’re here with me.”

He smiled as he tugged her toward the path. “Neither am I, invincible.”

Siofra let him pull her along for several seconds until she remembered the more personal news he’d revealed. “So, I’m a changeling? No one wanted me?”

“That isn’t at all true. You are an even greater blessing than any other elf. You were given to share cheer with those who were hurting. You were shared because you were so very much loved.”

“Then you can find out who I am?”

“This matters to you? Isn’t it enough that you belong wherever you wish to be? With the humans or with the elves? Two families are better than one.”

“But now I have no family. Can I be traced?”

He stopped, and the opening to the village road appeared before them. “If it matters, you can petition the Sidhe courts. I would not advise it. Fairies aren’t…fair. They would require something in exchange.”

“Like what?”

“That depends on what they perceive as your greatest weakness. As I said, not fair.”

“Why are you explaining all this to me when you wouldn’t before?”

Lysander reached up and trailed a finger alongside her cheekbone. “That is a question for another day.” He pointed at the necklace he’d given her. “Never take it off, Siofra Blàrach.” Then he disappeared, and Siofra found herself upstairs on her bed.

Her fists pounded the fluffy counterpane. “Infuriating man…elf!”

She tumbled off the bed and changed into evening wear. It wouldn’t do for Lady Gretchen or Miss Dawd to find her in trousers. Was she late for the evening meal? Lady Gretchen would lock her in her room for sure. So many things about which to worry.

She scampered down the servants’ stairs and burst into the kitchen, but the only person she found was Mrs. Sgot. Was she really a brownie? Mrs. Sgot rubbed her hands on a pristine white apron and held out her hands. “You have something for me?”

Instantly, Siofra found her hands full of the items Lysander has pressed on her. “Uh, yes. Some royal honey and hawthorn, I believe.”

Mrs. Sgot took the red bag of hawthorn and sniffed. “Strong. That should do the trick. Set the honey on the table and move yourself to the dining room. They’re waiting for you.”

Siofra nodded, still wondering what had become of all the other servants. As she approached the dining room, she took a deep breath. What excuse could she use for her tardiness?

“Hello, Hudgins. What course are we on?” she asked the butler. When he didn’t respond, she peered closer. He looked frozen, his eyes half open and his arm stretched out.

She hurried through the open doorway and found a roomful of frozen people. Maeve held a ladle in her hand, in the very act of pouring out soup over a bowl. Even the soup was frozen in place, with small droplets floating over the bowl. Lady Gretchen sat with her head tilted, her mouth agape as if in speech. Miss Dawd’s eyes were closed, and her hand hovered over a cloth napkin.

Siofra found her chair and scooted in place. Immediately, the action returned to the occupants of the room.

“—if she cannot come down to dinner on time,” Lady Gretchen said.

“If who cannot come to dinner on time?” Siofra asked. “Are we expecting visitors? Should we not wait for them?”

Miss Dawd’s hand dropped to her lap. Both she and Lady Gretchen gasped, but it was Lady Gretchen who answered. “How did you get in that chair?”

“I pulled it out and sat on it.”

Lady Gretchen’s eyes widened even more, but then Maeve stood at her side. “Some honey for your tea, milady?”

Lady Gretchen nodded, staring at Siofra as Maeve dropped a large spoonful of magic honey in the steaming tea. For the remainder of the meal, she uttered not one word, occasionally darting a glance at Miss Dawd, but that lady kept her eyes on her food after taking some honey for own tea. Were they afraid of something? Surely not Siofra herself?

Siofra dropped her fork with a clank, and Lady Gretchen nearly jumped out of her skin. “I am so sorry, Lady Gretchen. Did I mention that I no longer wish to ride with Mr. Paorach or invite him into our home?”

“Whyever would you need to mention that, Siofra? We are in mourning for your dear parents. Of course, you will not accept gentlemen callers. Besides, my dear, he is much too old for you, don’t you think? Unless you…want…to marry a banker?” Her nose turned up at the very idea of encouraging a man who worked for a living.

“Not at all,” Siofra said.

“And he smells.” Miss Dawd shivered. “Has he not heard of a bath?”

Lady Gretchen frowned. She might agree, but she was too much of a lady to say it aloud. “Miss Dawd, that is not appropriate dinner conversation.”

“No matter.” Siofra shoved her chair back. “I am finished. Please, excuse me.” She swept around the table and kissed the top of Lady Gretchen’s head. “Good night, dears. Sleep well.”

Lady Gretchen beamed up at her. “Good night. Sleep well, Siofra. I hope you enjoy your walk in the morning. Perhaps you could return a little earlier so we can all go in to dinner together?” Then her face took on a befuddled look, her eyes crinkling and her forehead creasing, as if she wasn’t quite sure whether or not Siofra had been late after all. She shook her head. “Good night, my dear.”

Siofra barely made it up the stairs without laughing. Wait until she told Lysander how quickly Lady Gretchen awakened from the influence of the troll! It must have been Lysander that froze the household in place. His magic was a lot more powerful than he’d led her to believe.

She smiled as she readied for bed. Perhaps she would dream of the strange creatures and unique habitats she’d seen on the other side of the stream. Was that why Lysander didn’t want her to drink the water? Did it open the way to that other world? That made no sense. He’d offered her that same water. She would have to remember to ask him. If she could see those mystifying sights and personages, could they see her? And what of her elven parents? Could that be true?

She yawned. So many questions. Each answer seemed to raise more issues than it solved. Well, tomorrow was another day.