Lara lifted her head to give Kelly a halfhearted glare. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I woke up,” Kelly said apologetically. “One of those oh-my-God-I-slept-through-the-alarm jolting awake things. I figured we were better off with me driving with adrenaline in my system than half asleep, so I got up.”

Lara looked down at Dafydd, who had gone rabbit-still. Rather like she had, she thought, when Emyr had happened on them in the Barrow-lands glade. “Do you think it’s a sign?” she asked, more lightheartedly than usual. She’d been embarrassed when Emyr had caught them; now she was only amused. “Do you think someone is trying to tell us we shouldn’t have sex outdoors?”

“Yes,” Kelly said helpfully. “I am.”

“I meant in a grander scheme.” Lara sat up, hands on her hips. “This is the second time we’ve been interrupted like this. We were outside both times.” She started buttoning her dress, saw disappointment dart through Dafydd’s expression, and gave in to a laugh as she leaned down to kiss him again. Her world had been turned upside-down. She had lost months of time, had battled vicious monsters, had run instead of helping when a decent man was struck down, and still, somehow, she was happy. Dafydd ap Caerwyn offered her that: an unexpected delight in life, even when so many things were going wrong. She kissed him again, then got to her feet, shaking her skirt straight. “You’re the one who told me I should be more adventuresome, Kel. I’m just trying to follow through. I’ve never had sex in the woods.”

“Look at it this way. You’ll be incredibly grateful to me in a couple hours, when you’re not trying to discreetly scratch mosquito bites in seriously indiscreet places. Now come on. Get your skinny elf boy dressed and let’s go find his world.”

“Lara.” Kelly’s whisper broke through the fog of half-sleep that rendered Lara’s name almost meaningless to her. She wasn’t awake, but was just aware enough of the world around her that it impinged on her dreams. The road’s curves made her sway in the seat, and she knew it, but in her dream she was on the ocean, tossing and weaving in a small boat at the whim of waves. The slowly brightening sky was sunrise, but in the dream it came in bursts of light that promised a path out of the storm.

Kelly said, “Lara,” more insistently. Lara drew in a sharp cold breath that balled itself in her throat like a hiccup from the other direction, and her eyes popped open.

The sky shone red over nearby mountains still blue and misty with night. Lara stared at them, then shivered, part in response to their otherworldly appearance and in part her body’s objection to waking from the fugue it had been in. The road behind them faded into haze in the sideview mirror, distance and fuzziness a reflection of Lara’s mental state as well. She mumbled, “We’ve gone a long way,” and dropped her face into her hands, trying to wake up.

“Yeah, and now we’ve got a problem. Guy coming the other way just flashed his lights at me.”

Lara lifted her head again, uncomprehending as Kelly slowed the car and pulled toward the side of the narrow road. “So?”

“So my headlights weren’t on high, so if he was flashing me it means there’s probably some kind of trouble up ahead. Either somebody hit a deer or …”

“Or there’s a roadblock.” Exhaustion burned away, leaving Lara’s spine tense. “We’re a hundred and thirty miles from Boston. They can’t possibly be putting up blocks this far out.” Hope, not truth, ran through her words.

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. How far are we from the mountains?” They looked close, but they dominated the horizon, making her perspective uncertain.

“Ten, maybe fifteen miles before we’re really in them. We could walk it,” Kelly said dubiously.

Lara lifted her feet a few inches, displaying the heeled sandals she wore. “I didn’t know when I got dressed yesterday that I’d be going on the lam or I’d have worn hiking boots.”

“You don’t even own hiking boots. Okay, so we ca—” Kelly broke off to stare at Lara. “You don’t own hiking boots.”

“I know. I was kidding.”

“You don’t kid like that.”

Lara caught a protest behind her teeth and held it there, looking at Kelly in astonishment. She was right: it wasn’t the kind of joke Lara made, its inaccuracy lying too close to falsehood for her comfort. But there’d been no twinge of dissonant music, no out-of-tune keys played as she’d spoken. They were more distressing in their absence than their presence ever could have been, and her voice went light and heady. “It didn’t feel like a lie.”

“Holy crap.” Kelly sat up more enthusiastically than Lara liked. “Does that mean you’re losing your power?”

“Impossible,” Dafydd murmured from the backseat. Both women twisted to look at him. He looked worse again, the vehicle sapping his strength for all that he still held the staff. “Lara’s magic is mortal. Even if the Barrow-lands are closed away forever, her talent will never fade. At most it’s only changing. Maturing.”

Truth rang clear and reassuring in Lara’s mind, relaxing her shoulders a little. “I thought developing it would make hearing, and telling, lies worse. But it’s like, what’s the phrase? ‘Close enough for government work.’ It didn’t matter that I wasn’t perfectly truthful. It was like it understood nuance.”

“Lara!” Kelly caught Lara’s hand, expression bright as she put away their troubles for a moment. “Lara, does this mean you might develop a sense of humor?”

Lara, injured, said, “I have one. It’s just not very—”

“Nuanced?” Kelly suggested happily. “Seriously, Lar, this is great. Think how much less hideous it’ll be if your wacky talent doesn’t make you turn green when somebody gives the polite answer instead of the truth.”

Dafydd, far more gently, said, “I’ve never known a mortal truthseeker, or even one of the Seelie talents. You can already do more than you could—”

“Three weeks ago?” Lara asked wryly. “A year and a half ago? I honestly don’t know which way to count it. Either way, though, you’re right. I can do more than I could, and for the first time I’m wondering if maybe I could learn to turn it on and off.” The idea sent a shock through her, relief tangled with fear, and she unwound to gaze out the windshield at the mountains again. On one level, the idea of turning the truth sense off seemed like casually removing her arm. The idea also made her aware, as she’d never been before, how tiring it was to always be on guard against falsehood.

She heard herself say, “It doesn’t matter right now,” and ached with the weary truth running through it. “We’re going to have to keep going, Kel. I can’t walk ten miles in these shoes, and maybe all that’s up there is a dead deer.”

“If I were stronger,” Dafydd said from the backseat, his voice low and frustrated.

Lara shook her head. “If wishes were horses.” Chills ran down her spine, this time from awareness that her talent didn’t object to the phrase. “I’ve never said that before. I’ve heard it, but it just made me uncomfortable. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. I never would have said that. It’s too improbable. It’s not true.”

“It’s true enough,” Dafydd said. “If wishes were horses, beggars probably would ride.”

“But wouldn’t a beggar be more likely to wish for a house and food and clothes?”

“It doesn’t say if wishes came true, only if they were horses.”

“Will you two shut up already? Ye gods.” Kelly put the car back in drive. “If I’d known you were going to start deconstructing axioms I’d have left you to sleep.”

“No.” Lara smiled, unexpectedly cheerful. “You wouldn’t have.”

“How many times do I have to tell you you’re not supposed to do that?” Kelly shot her a scolding glance. “You better hope it’s a dead deer, or I might just turn you over to the cops.”