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“Miraculously, yes.”

The girl—one of Thora’s many granddaughters, I believe—settled herself, sheet and all, opposite me at the table and indolently helped herself to the remains of the breakfast. She proceeded to question me about Bambleby’s past, particularly in reference to his dalliances, a subject upon which I could have spoken volumes had I elected to take leave of my senses. I replied with answers so staccato that she soon began to smirk at me, imagining me jilted or jealous, or both. Thankfully, Shadow frightened her when he padded up to the table, hoping for scraps, and she exited the cottage shortly thereafter.

The morning was grey and windy with intervals of sleet, as miserable a face as a sky can put on, so I ventured only as far as the spring for my now habitual visit with Poe. I spent the remainder of the morning with my notes and Bambleby’s, which were exactly as cursory as I had expected them to be. Patches of blue sky appeared around noon, and so I donned my hat and coat and packed my camera, intending to venture up to the mountains to hunt for Bambleby’s supposed kelpie, which Thora had informed me was known as the nykur in Ljosland.

I was just stepping through the door, however, as Bambleby came striding up the path, collar notably askew, looking put out. He started a little at the sight of me, then looked guiltily away.

“What has happened?” I said, already dreading the response. “And where on earth have you been?”

“It seems I must resign the field,” he said. “I displease you when I sleep late. I displease you when I rise early. I displease you when I do exactly what you tell me to do, when you tell me to do it. I cannot win with you, Em.”

“Yes, that’s enough of that.” I narrowed my eyes. “You visited the changeling.”

“Indeed. Though I’m afraid I could get little information from him, and that is because he has none to give. He does not know when his parents will return, nor why they abandoned him here.”

I scanned the path as he strode past me into the cottage. “Where are our assistants?”

“I thought it best to leave them at the tavern with their pockets full of coin.”

I did not like his tone one bit. “And what was the cause of this munificence on your part?”

He took his time in answering, using Shadow as an excuse as he greeted the dog with a lavish display of affection. “I brought them along to the farmstead.”

“Oh, God.” I stared at him. “Why would you do such a thing? That is not a creature to be dealt with by amateurs!”

“I am responsible for their education. An opportunity to study a changeling in person is invaluable to any budding scholar. Besides, you made it sound as if the creature was nearly harmless, Em.”

“I never said the word! If you think—”

“Well, you implied it. And you mastered that thing with a bit of iron! You are every inch as fearsome as I always supposed you to be.”

“The iron was of less importance than a knowledge of the ways of the Folk, gleaned through extensive reading and experience in the field. Such an understanding takes years.”

He gave me a look that I found difficult to interpret. “Had I known what that changeling was, the power it possesses, I would not have let you go there alone. I am a better friend to you than that.”

“I didn’t need your help,” I snapped. “I handled the situation adequately.”

He pressed his hands to his face. “Yesterday you were angry at my lack of assistance. Today you bite my head off for helping. You are the most contrary person I have ever known.”

That took the wind out of me. Being labelled contrary by Wendell Bambleby would stop any sensible person in her tracks. “I suppose I could have been more forthcoming,” I said grudgingly. I sat down at the table. “Well. What are we to do?”

“I don’t know.” He sat opposite me, drawing one knee up and resting his arm on it. With his other hand, he spun one of the empty teacups. “I don’t know what visions the creature showed them. I only know they were ghastly, given their reactions. Yet they both seemed calmer with some food and wine in them. I shall give them tomorrow off.”

I felt a niggle of guilt. “I suppose I should have mentioned,” I said, “that I did not leave the creature in the best of moods yesterday.”

He tilted his head at me in a look of wordless exasperation.

“Well, what visions did it show you?” I said, to redirect his attention.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. Cold and ice and bloody wolves howling away.” The teacup rattled against the table as it spun. “Suffice it to say that I’ve met with worse Folk than that brat. Mord and Aslaug seemed disappointed that you did not accompany me. Did you realize you were capable of inspiring affection in others?”

“Only narcissists and layabouts, I thought.”

He leaned back, a smile playing on his mouth. “You know, Em, you could make life so much easier for yourself if you tried to be liked once in a while.”

“I do try,” I said, overloud. His words stung more than he could have guessed. I tried and tried—or at least, I used to, and nothing had ever come of it.

“Well, either way, you’ve outdone yourself this time. How you’ve convinced almost an entire village to hate you in the space of a week is beyond me. It will not make our research here easier, given the necessity of talking to said villagers.”