"For now," he says, and I smile at him sharply. Then he agrees, and I nod.

"Come, then," and I take his hand, link my fingers through it. We walk through the carnival, a strange sort of sight: a tangle-haired tanned boy and a youth of white and gold.

I take him to a quiet place on the riverbank. I hear the distant drone of a wasp's nest, the steady presence of the water. The air is warm and soft as new milk.

"Do you trust me?" I say. There is no reason that he should. But he will let me do this, anyway.