After that, the conversation returned to simpler, happier things. When the two elves left, though, Eibhlin knew her smile was the first false one she had given them. She hoped they hadn’t read through that lie. A familiar guilt rose in her chest and colored her cheeks, but she pushed it away and lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Tomorrow. She must find the key tomorrow.

She was awoken before tomorrow came by a soft voice calling her name and a gentle touch upon her hand. Strong, sharp shadows hung about the room. The spring water glistened in the moonlight. From outside, insects hummed and chirped. The sun’s world was asleep, the moon’s awake, and now, in her waking, she had intruded into that world. She was a foreigner in that world, and she was not the only one that night. By her bed stood Yashul. The lady held no light, but her face shone as if reflecting the moon, and in her eyes was sadness. Yashul motioned for silence, and she gave a smile so tinged with sorrow Eibhlin almost wept.

“I have a request for you, dear child. Will you listen?” asked the lady. Eibhlin nodded. Yashul continued, “Thank you. However, there is one more thing I must ask before I proceed to my request. You must do exactly as I tell you, every part of it. If you cannot make this promise, then I shall leave you now, and this shall all be as a dream.”

Eibhlin tensed. “Why?” she asked, but the lady only shook her head.

“I may only tell you if you give me your word. I’m sorry,” said Yashul.

“Then I give you my solemn oath to do all you tell me to,” said Eibhlin.

The sadness in the elf’s eyes deepened so that Eibhlin nearly took back her word, but she held her tongue. “Very well,” said the lady. “First, promise to hold secret what I say and do from all who draw breath.”

“I promise,” said Eibhlin.

“Then,” said the lady, “with your word binding you, I may show you this.” From the wide sleeve of her gown, the lady pulled out a plain string of twine from which hung a key. It seemed made of crystal. Its surface was smooth, but beneath that surface were countless facets, causing the moonlight to dance rainbows within the body. The hole in the handle was lined with silver, and a soft light came from the key.

Eibhlin’s jaw tightened, and her breath caught. The elf nodded. “It is as you guess, child. This is the key for which you seek.”

“You had it the whole time?” said Eibhlin. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It is what I promised, to first judge whether the one seeking the key can be trusted with it. Elves, as those between the Mortal and Fae, can see what might be missed by both. Such was the reason I was asked to fulfill this role, and such was my oath when I took the key under my protection,” answered Yashul.

“And you trust me enough?”

“You fought to protect my children. I can think of no better test than the one you have already faced,” Yashul replied.

“Then you’re giving me the key?” asked Eibhlin.

Yashul took Eibhlin’s hands in her own. She said, “Dear child, with all my soul, I wish I could gift you this key. You have already protected what is most precious to me. I could ask no better price. However, proving your quality and obtaining the key, these are two different tasks. The one who gave me this key, the one you seek for reasons that are your own, I gave her my most binding oath. I must not hand over the key without a price. This condition I cannot break.”

Eibhlin looked into the elf lady’s eyes. “Is the request you have for me related to that?”

“Yes.”

“Ask me,” said Eibhlin.

Gently, Yashul reached into a basket sitting on the floor and lifted out Eibhlin’s blue kirtle. All traces of blood or dirt were gone and any tears or frays mended. In the moonlight, the beads and white birds glowed as if they were lights reflecting off still water. The lady spoke. “This kirtle is wonderfully made. Such love and skill rest within each stitch, and its beauty cannot be disputed. My child, Lady Eibhlin, my request is this: will you give me this kirtle for the key?”

Eibhlin felt her heart pounding in her chest. Her kirtle? Only that? Except, it wasn’t “only.” That kirtle had been a gift, made just for her. And it was blue. How much had the women of the border town worked and saved to buy cloth of that color? And the time spent making it. Before now, should she have been asked to give away such a thing, she would have refused without a second thought. Before now.

Eibhlin took a deep breath and gripped her sheets. With her heart heavy but her voice steadier than she felt, Eibhlin said, “There is something I must set right, and for that I need to see Mealla. I can’t let myself fail when I’ve hardly begun. So, yes. I accept your price.”

The sorrow did not leave Yashul’s eyes as she took up the key again. She said, “Then, Lady Eibhlin, one who I have judged worthy of trust, I bestow upon you this key and release it from my keeping. May it serve you well.”

Eibhlin’s hand sank a little under the key’s weight. She pulled it close, feeling the tingle of fairy magic in her fingertips. This was her first key. Taking her own gold chain, she felt a need to bring it and the key near, as if they recognized their similar origins and called for each other. She removed the key from the twine and brought it toward her chain. The chain passed through the solid key, like light obstructed then joined again. She stared in silent amazement at the crystal key strung on the golden chain.

Only two more left.

Once more, the elf wrapped her fingers over Eibhlin’s. “I hope your journey succeeds, dear child. May the Maker of Lady Fortune and Father Time grant you much of both. And know, child, that you have my blessing,” said the lady, and she kissed the girl’s hands and forehead.

“Thank you. I’ll remember,” said Eibhlin. Then she asked, “Yashul, I knew I could find the first key around here, but I don’t know where to go next. Do you?”