“I need your help.”
“No.” The word spikes with fear. “You must leave.” The door snicks shut.
“Please.” I lay my gloved palm against the wood, its rough grooves catching the leather. My heart limps from the long, arduous run. Lissi is my last hope.
“The tithe has begun.” The door muffles her voice, though not its bite. “The rules are plain. We cannot interfere.”
“I would not come to you unless I had need.”
“You are mortal, sweet. I will not stretch out my neck for you.”
A cool wind stirs at my back, coaxing me to turn. The village is steeped in a fog of desertion, windows shuttered, the river an oily pool in the distance.
“I know I’m endangering you by returning,” I say lowly, tightening my hand around the knob, “but I swear, this is the only time I will ask for your help.” She cannot know what it means that I am here at all, placing my trust in the fair folk.
“Unfortunately, the answer is no.”
The hollow moan of a woodwind instrument carries from a great distance, and a wave of cold sweeps through me, pebbling my skin. It sounds like a dirge.
My voice croaks out. “What if I were to offer you a trade?”
Silence hangs between us. “A trade?” Lissi’s girlish voice brightens with excitement.
I slide open my pack, pull out the old, worn pages of the Text. “My most prized possession,” I say. “It’s yours if you help me.”
The door swings open. Lissi’s eyes dart over my shoulder, side to side. She has exchanged her usual waistcoat for a cherry scarf and lumpy wool hat. “Come inside.” Grasping the front of my alb, she hauls me over the threshold.
A hiss of pain escapes me as my head knocks the top of the ceiling of the single-roomed structure. A pile of blankets identifies Lissi’s sleeping area. It smells of herbs, a bright, clean scent.
Lissi tugs my arm impatiently. “Show me.”
As I hand over the Text, I understand this is the last I will ever see of it. I’ve no room in my heart to grieve. The decision has been made. A steadfast comfort, now passed on to another.
Lissi stares at the heavily bound manuscript, unimpressed. “Your prized possession is a book?”
I try not to take offense. “Don’t you like to read?”
“Read?” She giggles. “How boring. I prefer the more salacious activities, if you know what I mean.” Lissi offers an impish wink, and I can’t help but smile in response.
“I suppose it’s not that salacious,” I admit, although the Book of Night contains a few hair-raising tales.
“What about that?” She points to my chest.
My necklace? I catch the pendant between two fingers, the pad of my thumb pressed into the trinity knot. Mother Mabel said to never take it off. “It’s not for trade, I’m afraid.”
She pouts, yet glances between the necklace and the Text. “I do not care for a book, sweet. Keep it.” She returns the Text, much to my surprise. “Now, what need do you have of me?”
I sag beneath the most profound relief. “Zephyrus is injured,” I say, shoving the tome back into my rucksack. “Will you tend to him? You mentioned you were knowledgeable in the healing arts.”
Her mouth curls, stretching around those dull, slime-coated gums. “You are a good girl, sweet. Why risk your life for the West Wind? I’ve warned you he cannot be trusted.”
“I’m not here to have my decisions questioned,” I state flatly. “Will you help me or not?”
Lissi considers me beneath lowered eyelids. The sprite is tiny, but no pushover, if the fire in her gaze is any indication. “Very well. Let me grab my supplies.” She brushes off her hands, selects a nondescript bag by the door. Pulling back the heavy drapery, she peeks through the window. “How far away is he?”
“A few miles.”
“Then we will move quickly.”
