“Irresponsible girl!” Troy turned and hissed when they had barely lost the riverbank from sight. “Did you fancy yourself very clever for bargaining with the fay?”

“You think I enjoyed that deal? Because trust me when I say I don’t look forward to facing that dragon… that cuelebre thing.”

“You rushed into acceptance without even knowing of it.”

And that was the crux of it.

“I’m sorry if I’m not as experienced as you would like me to be about faeries,” Lily said. “But it’s not like I could say no. There’s too much at stake here.”

“And you made sure she knew of your desperation, of course. Understanding that a service only has the value given to it by those who desire it is common sense, and the fact you handed over all negotiation power can hardly be blamed on your lack of education.” He took a step back and ran both hands through his hair. Lily saw he was distressed, truly upset over the blunder.

“Is it that bad?”

“Yes.”

“But we can do it, right? We can get the stone.”

“We? I certainly do not plan on facing that beast.” He resumed walking, not bothering to look back to see if she followed.

“We have a deal,” she reminded him.

“Not quite. You have struck a ridiculous bargain, but I do not have part in it. There should be an alternate way to find the information.”

“Grandma doesn’t have time for us to waste thinking of other methods when we have already found one. And besides, technically, I’m bound to fulfill my end of the bargain, right?”

“Indeed. But as I said, only you are. I can find different ways to pursue the answers once you fail, so all is not lost in spite of your stupid wasting of the best source I had.”

“You don’t mean that.” Lily breathed out, struggling now to keep up with him. His anger had lengthened his strides.

“Do I not?” he mocked, lifting a brow.

“No, you don’t!” She grabbed his arm, pulled with all her strength, managed to bring them both to a stumbling halt. “You don’t mean that!” she shouted, desperate to believe her own words. He just regarded her, cold as a marble statue, and she hit his chest, trying to get him to react because even if he laughed at her naiveté, it would be better than this indifference. “You’re supposed to protect me,” she finished lamely in a small voice.

“Should it be within my possibilities,” Troy said. “If the redcap pack resulted to be such a harsh test, exactly how do you expect to prevail against the cuelebre?”

“We could find a way. Glaistig said it wasn’t impossible, so there must be some trick. She even gave us a clue, didn’t she? We could figure it out.”

Troy sighed. Reaching up, he disentangled her fingers from the front of his shirt, where they had clung when she gave up on the hitting, and forced some distance between them.

“If you must know, she suggested you give the guardian a poisoned offering, as if such a thing were simple.”

“Right. So that’s what she meant. And I don’t suppose you can kill a cuelebre with raticide, right?”

“No substance made by man would work. And you do not have the means to obtain the rarer ingredients that might do the deed.”

“Do you think Grandma could have them?”

“No. The good doctor did not dabble in poisoning.”

“But iron would still work, right?” She was clutching at straws, she knew.

“And how do you plan to slip it past his senses? Nothing in this world carries a stronger stench than iron. The cuelebre will see the ruse and know you are to blame.”

“We have to try.”

He shook his head. “Desist. Find a loophole in the bargain and let us find another way.”

“I gave my word I would do this,” she protested.

“And both parties neglected to mention when. Walk away from this folly and it will be no fault of yours if you choose to perform your task one hundred years from now.”

It was so very tempting. Lily thought back to the river running red from Troy’s wounds after the redcap encounter. They appeared to be healed now and he moved seemingly without pain, but it was a sharp reminder of what could happen should she insist on facing the cuelebre. He was giving her a way out, a way to continue the search and stay safe, and she ached to take it.

“Who else might know what happened?” she asked.

“Those who foresaw her death might be able to explain the nature of their visions.”

“But she isn’t dead. We know that now, so those visions wouldn’t be accurate anyway.”

“No,” he admitted.

“Then there’s no choice, Troy.”

Troy bowed his head for a moment. When he looked up at her again, Lily could have sworn there was a tinge of something soft behind the harsh, cutting glass of his gaze. Was it pity? Regret?

“There is always a choice, Lily Boyd. Do remember that,” he said in quiet tones that touched her soul without searing it with command.

And he chose to turn around, walking back toward his water domain and leaving her alone and dirty and cold on the outskirts of town.

Lily made it home in a daze. The front door was still propped up in place, so she entered through the kitchen. After their escape from the redcaps, they had left it ajar and the wind had blown dirt and dead leaves into the house. It was the only thing out of order. She looked at the kitchen clock. It said it was eleven-twenty and she couldn’t remember if she should be worried, if it should be marking some other time. She couldn’t even care what day it was. The only important thing was that the neighbors seemed to be intent on not realizing what happened around them and no one had come to the house, no one had called the police.

That was nice. That would allow her to prepare her trap.

She would just take a short shower first.

And perhaps a short nap.

She had to hurry, but surely she could spare a few minutes to rest. Her grandmother always used to say that tired minds didn’t think straight, and she was so very, very tired.