They were male and female, the pair of Fae, and a very handsome sight they might have been to the unknowledgable eye. Youthful and attractively featured, they were similar enough to have been twins — save that one was a young man, the other a girl. Their clothing was all of gold and silk, their hair as yellow as freshly churned butter. Their very skin seemed to shimmer and sparkle under the light of the sun, as though gold dust powdered them from head to toe. Sinead did not doubt that it did.

«I cannot tell you her name, sister, for it has not yet been given to me.» The young male’s voice was as tinkling and beautiful as that of the girl. He arched one fair eyebrow at Sinead. «Tell me, maiden, what is your name and why do you come here to steal away our secrets?»

Sinead thought she detected a hint of mockery in those tawny eyes and her back stiffened. «I do not come here for your secrets but for your joyflower. My mother is gravely ill and a potion containing your joyflower may save her.»

He appeared not to have heard that last. «Our joyflower? Why, that is even worse, is it not, sister? We would not have one fewer sweet blossom in this meadow than that we already have.»

Despite her fright, Sinead found herself staring the pair of them down combatively. «That’s the most nonsensical thing I’ve ever heard,» she said sharply. «This field is drowning with wildflowers and a few less cannot make any difference to you at all and might help me a great deal.»

His response was quick. «Ah, but suppose it is not our wish to help anybody but ourselves? Therein lies the trouble. For Fae folk, as you must know, care very little for others and very much for themselves.»

Sinead wearied of this verbal battle. «What is it you want from me?» she asked resignedly.

«How tiresome these ordinary folk are, are they not?» he addressed himself to his companion. «Have we not already stated our purpose? Is it not clear to anyone with eyes and ears what the Fae folk want, what we enjoy above all else?»

His sister rushed forwards. «Pay no mind to my brother, little one; he is simply in love with his own wit. He means no harm by it.»

When the words were spoken in that lilting, musical voice Sinead found that she could almost believe them. Almost.

«Never mind the false kindness. Simply tell me what it is you ask — or rather what you demand, for I’ve no doubt it will soon enough come down to that.»

The golden brow knit and the rosebud shaped lips puckered into a pout. «You see, brother? You see how you have offended her? And now she will never come willingly to the dance.»

Her companion glowered. «What matters it whether she is willing or not? She has entered the ring. She is in our power.»

Sinead swallowed, for she knew his words were nothing but truth, whether he intended malice or not — and obviously he did.

«I don’t understand,» she answered, feigning ignorance to buy herself more time. «What is this about a dance?»

«How simple-minded you mortals are.» The male sneered at her. «Do not pretend ignorance. There can be no man, woman or child alive who does not know of the faery dance, the endless, eternal dance of bliss in which we pause only during the light of day to gain new partners.»

«Of which you are now one,» his sister cut in. As she spoke, she shifted oddly, as if to cover something with her skirts.

Sinead’s attention was drawn downwards where, for the first time, she noticed an appalling sight. The feet of the Fae were bare despite their other finery. And what feet they were! Battered and bloody, bruised and swollen, they were the feet of immortal beings who spent every night of their lives dancing heedlessly, madly away under the light of the moon, no more able to stop themselves than the ant could stop its toil or the seasons could cease their turning.

«Your feet,» Sinead gasped, with mingled sympathy and horror.

The male seemed annoyed that she had noticed the single flaw to their otherwise beautiful persons. «Never mind that, it is nothing.» His tone was dismissive. «The pain is scarcely felt when one becomes caught up in the rapture of the dance.»

«That is so,» his sister agreed.

Sinead’s eyes widened. «You are mad. Both of you.»

The male simply smiled; the female nodded pleasantly. «But, of course.»

Sinead shuddered. «I. I think I’d better be going now.»

«But you cannot,» the female answered. «Once a mortal has entered the ring it is physically impossible for them to depart, unless we will it.»

«Let me guess. The law of the Sídhe?»

«Exactly so,» answered the male.

Sinead sighed. «I’ve told you my mother needs me — she needs this joyflower. What will it take for you to agree to let me take it to her?»

«There is nothing that can be given in exchange for a human life. I’m sure you will agree,» answered the male faery coyly.

For the first time that day Sinead felt the backs of her eyes prickle with tears — not tears of fear, but of dismay and frustration. To have come so far only to be defeated by a witless pair such as this!

It was in this moment of utter despair that an idea came to her mind. «Suppose we made a bargain?» she offered. «Suppose I swore to return at dawn tomorrow? Would you allow me this one last night to return to my home? After all, what could possibly be gained by keeping me now against my will? I can promise you I’d never cease to hate you for it and I should not dance well for you at all. It would be an eternity of strife.»

The faeries exchanged looks. Then the female shrugged. «I see no reason why we should not let you go for awhile yet. If you swear to return to us of your own free will, we will grant you this last half-day and night of freedom. We will even grant you the joyflower to carry away.»

Her brother looked disgruntled, Sinead noted, but he too gave his assent.

«At dawn on the morrow,» the female said, «the magic will come for you.»

Regretfully, Sinead agreed.

Scarcely had she escaped this second test when she found herself facing a third. The woods at the edge of the meadow were dark and deep and were rumoured to be guarded by fearsome forest creatures who permitted no human to set foot within their boundaries.

And yet, the fever-wort grew only within the shadows of the wood and, having committed herself this far, Sinead could hardly turn back.

Besides, she comforted herself, she had already sold her life to the lake folk in exchange for the pitcher of water she now carried against her breast and to the Fae folk in exchange for the joyflower in her belt pouch. What did it matter, in the end, whether it was the lake folk, the Fae, or the dreadful creatures of the forest who eventually claimed her? Oddly enough, the thought emboldened her.

With a good deal more resolve now than she had possessed earlier in the morning, Sinead entered the shadows of the wood.

She travelled far, all the way into the heart of the forest, before she at last found a shady little clearing beside a babbling brook, where the fever-wort grew in profusion. Here she gathered as much of the plant as she needed and, tucking it into the little pouch dangling from her belt, set off on her way again.

Relieved at having completed her goal so easily and having met with no interference from the frightful wood creatures, she was eager to leave the forest behind her and to be soon at her mother’s side once more.

Unfortunately, that was not to be. She quickly discovered that she had journeyed so far into the shadowy wood that she could no longer recall the way back out.

Picking her way along the path that looked most familiar, she at length found herself back once more in the exact same shady clearing she had so recently left. In fact, no matter which direction she left this spot in, she continued to return always to the same place. What is this? she asked herself. What mischievous magic is at work here? Am I doomed forever to wonder this gloomy wood?

It was as she again came face to face with the babbling brook after her third attempt to leave the clearing that Sinead first began to sense she was not alone, and perhaps had not been alone this entire time. A tingling feeling tickled its way down her spine; she could feel unseen eyes upon her.

Spinning slowly, searching for her watcher, her eyes abruptly collided with an unexpected figure. It was as if it simply appeared from nowhere. One moment there had been nothing but a beam of sunshine slanting down through the treetops to fall across a rotting stump. In the next instant he appeared.

He was a great stag of the forest. His graceful body was lithe and muscled beneath his copper-hued hide; massive, spreading antlers towered above his head. And yet he was more than that.

What should have been the neck of the stag, widened rather than narrowed, merging into the form of a man’s waist and upper torso. Fine, reddish-hued fur ran up to a broad chest, above which soared bare, muscular shoulders and a head as human as that of any young man she had ever seen. Well, perhaps not quite human. Certainly there were features distinctly human in that face, but there were also traits that could only have come from the stag. His nose was long and narrow, his high chin and cheekbones were dusted with fine hair of the same hue as the deer hide further down his body. Even the longish hair of his head was a deep, rich red to match his hide. His mouth was wide and pink and possessed of a more generous pair of lips than would seem natural on most people.

But just as with the lake folk, it was this creature’s eyes that made her reassess her impression of its humanity. Those dark, pupil-less eyes were as beastly as the rest of his face was manly. Sinead could read in them no sign of human emotion or intelligence.