I followed her out of the study down to the kitchen, where she proceeded to prepare a salad.

"I've never seen a dead flit," I said.

She began chopping greens. "Very few people have. I was talking with one of my subjects about flit funeral processions — which I've seen a number of times — and mentioned that I'd never seen the final disposition of the body. He showed up with that body early this evening. He told me they just leave the body on a suitable hill and the first light of day takes it away."

"But why did he give it to you?"

Briallen began rummaging under a counter, eventually withdrawing a huge earthenware bowl that was too big for the salad. She used it anyway. "He didn't give it to me. He just thought I'd like to see it. I promised I'd put it outside before dawn."

"But you put a preserving ward on it," I said.

She shrugged. "It's only temporary. I noticed it had faded considerably in the short time I had it inside. I suspect any light will do the job; the sun just does it quickly. I think it has something do with essence leaving the body. It's almost unbelievable that something as small as a flit exists on any sentient level. I've been wondering if they're made up of more essence than physical matter."

I leaned over the salad as casually as I could. "Speaking of essence…"

Briallen held up her hand before I could continue, a knowing smile dancing on her face. "First, we socialize like the old friends that we are. We can talk business later. Grab a plate."

I ducked my head with a chagrined smile. Briallen is rarely taken unaware. She pulled a huge roast out of the oven, much more than the two of us could eat, and set out more bowls with vegetables and potatoes. We perched on kitchen stools at the counter island and proceeded to catch up. I, of course, had little to say that didn't lead to business. Briallen, on the other hand, had enough things going for both of us.

She had recently taken a yearlong sabbatical from Harvard, where she taught the history of what she liked to refer to as the "Not-So-Dark Ages." She was continuing research into more recent history. In the meantime, she was also beginning her work with the flit clan, trying to cultivate certain plants in the harsh New England climate, and learning how to cook Thai food. I had a feeling the latter was preparation for another trip later on.

She had participated in the early talks of the Fey Summit and was thinking about visiting Germany to assess the political situation there. Briallen had been instrumental in the founding of the Ward Guild, and though she didn't answer to the High Queen, her sympathies lay with the Seelie Court. She had diplomatic status in most European countries as a leader of the Druidic College and was often an advisor to world leaders. It was years before I realized how important she is. I thought she was just a nice lady who taught me spells.

She began clearing away the dishes. "You've been so quiet, Connor. Tell me something you've been doing other than work." I knew what she was asking. Briallen felt I needed to devote myself full-time to regaining my abilities. I made some efforts, but never enough to please her, or so it seemed. Sometimes I wondered if she was frustrated more by me or by her own inability to find an answer for what's wrong with me.

"Well, for one thing, I'm in the best physical condition I've ever been in."

"That's a good start." She poured two small glasses of port. She handed me a glass, lifted the bottle, and sailed out of the kitchen. I followed her to the upstairs parlor. A fire always burned in the room, even in summer, yet the temperature was never uncomfortable. With the entire house at her disposal, I knew she liked this room the best. It held several welcoming overstuffed chairs, more books, and a view of the garden. I imagined she spent many an evening reading in it until dawn sent her to bed.

"And…" she prompted.

I settled into a deep-tufted armchair by the fire. "My protective wards seem to activate instinctually. My sensing abilities feel like they're in overdrive sometimes. I still can't do a sending that goes true. Scrying is out of the question. And I seem to forget incantations as soon as I start them."

She pursed her lips. "I know all that. What have you done lately?"

"I tried to light a candle the other day and set my desk on fire," I said, trying not to smirk.

She sharply let a breath out. "Have you tried to listen to your own heartbeat?"

I felt a flush of annoyance. "Briallen, I know my ABCs."

It was her turn to be irritated. "I'm sincerely beginning to doubt that. You want to ignite a precision fire. You want to scry. You want to speak spells. Yet, you don't even bother to build toward them. If you broke both your legs, you'd probably sit and mope until you could get up and run a marathon. And you'd have just as much success as you're having now."

"That's not fair," I said. Her words stung a little too deeply.

"So what? I'm not your mother. I'm not here to make it all go away. You have an extraordinary talent and refuse to use it."

"I don't have those talents anymore." I surprised myself. I never raised my voice to Briallen.

She compounded my horror by laughing at me. "Is that all you are, Connor? A body without talent? I'm talking about your mind. You need to reason your way through this. You need to learn your way through this. But above all, you need to act your way through this. You received a bunch of answers that didn't solve your problem, and now you want me to sympathize with you. I think you know me well enough by now, Connor, to know I have no sympathy for surrender."

I could feel heat suffuse my face. "I came here tonight for help," I said tightly.

A concerned and sincere look came over her face. "And you're getting it. Connor, you have to want to help yourself, too. It's not my job to drop everything and figure out what's wrong with you. I'll help you. I've said that. But I won't do it for you."

As I stared into the fire, I could feel my anger slipping away. She was right. Harsh, but right. I wasn't angry at Briallen. I was angry that she was right. For a long time, I had coasted along. The direction of my life had taken a turn I hadn't wanted, and I was letting it control me, pretending that I would simply wake up one day, and things would be back the way they had been.

I focused on the fire, letting the emotions drain out of me. I had to know I could do it, but more importantly, show Briallen I could. No sound came from her, though I could feel her attention. I slowed my breathing, shutting out the sounds around me. Reluctantly, the flames became soundless flickers of light. I continued focusing on the hearth, my eyes half-closed, as I exhaled into silence. I didn't move, dropping my breathing even more, until I could barely feel the rise and fall of my chest. I pulled myself inward. I could hear nothing, nothing at all for a moment, then finally, the soothing shushing noise that I recognized. I could hear my heart beating. I hung on to the moment, remembering when I first learned how to do this, remembering the promise of my childhood. Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes. It felt like coming to the surface of a very deep pool.

Briallen took a small sip from her glass. "Harder than you thought, wasn't it?"

I nodded. I could feel a thin sheen of perspiration on my lip. "I'm sorry."

"I take no offense. Now, bring me up to date on the murders."

I brought her through my most recent interviews, including my suspicions about Shay. She took unconscionable delight in Stinkwort's comments about Tansy, and I gave her an embarrassing imitation of the little flit's speech pattern.

"Your accent needs work," she said with a chuckle. Tapping the edge of her glass, she lost herself in thought a moment. " 'Ska. An interesting word."