"Tylwyth Teg. Hypothetically."
"What? The word 'fairies' offends you?"
"Hypothetically. Fae if you must."
"Fine. So these babies get switched. Why?"
He seemed to consider this, and I was bracing for him to refuse to answer when he said, "Take a look at the families involved. What do you see?"
"Well, the children don't resemble the parents--"
"Look deeper, Olivia. There is a very marked difference in the families."
"They come from different sides of the track, so to speak. One is upper-middle-class. The other is lower. The income level--"
"Deeper."
I considered. "The Conways are solid citizens. Well educated, no trouble with the law, and so on. The Shaws are none of the above. Criminal records. Addictions. A family with deep-rooted problems."
"Hmm."
"And the point is? So you took--"
"I did nothing."
"Hypothetically."
"Hypothetically or not, I did nothing."
"Fine. So someone takes a girl from a good family and switches her--"
"Reverse the situation."
"Someone takes a girl from a troubled family and--" I looked up sharply. "And gives her a better chance."
"Perhaps."
"Why would--?" I stopped myself. "Because she's the one wh
o matters. The girl born to the Shaws, who grew up as Ciara Conway."
To collect my thoughts, I got up and walked to the fence. I absently rubbed one of the chimeras, and when I did, I imagined the shrieks of children, delighted shrieks, and even if I don't have a maternal bone in my body, I felt what a parent must feel, that burst of pleasure and of pride and of something else--the instinct to keep their children happy, to keep them safe, to mow down every obstacle in their path to do it.
When I looked out again, I saw something on the grass, glowing in the moonlight. A ring of mushrooms.
A fairy ring.
I opened the gate.
"Olivia?" Patrick called.
I ignored him and walked to the ring and knelt beside it. Mushrooms, perfectly arranged in a circle. No, not quite perfectly--there were a few stray ones in the middle. Small ones, lost in the grass. Protected within the circle.
I reached to touch one . . . and the ring vanished. Gone in a blink, because it had never been there. It was a vision, a nudge in the direction I already knew was correct.
Patrick stood outside the gate, watching me.
"They're your children," I said. "Fae children. They're Tylwyth Teg."