“Did you make these?” I asked.

He nodded and jerked his thumb toward the ceiling. “That’s my bakery upstairs.”

“They’re delicious,” I told him, though I’m sure he’d gotten that message already.

The food temporarily made me feel better, but my mood sank again when Lachlan picked up the tray to leave. Soon, I would be alone in my cell again.

Lachlan gave me a sympathetic smile. “Your aunt Grace means well,” he told me. “I know she’s been less than diplomatic—”

I couldn’t help my snort of laughter. Yeah, that was one way to describe it. Lachlan looked hurt by my laughter. I guess he really liked Aunt Grace, since he did his best to defend her.

“She has been under a great deal of stress lately,” he explained, “and your arrival has—” He frowned and didn’t finish his sentence.

“My arrival has what?”

“Let’s just say you’re one more complication in an already complicated life.”

“Why?” I asked, throwing up my hands in frustration. “I was just coming here for a visit to meet my father! Why is everyone making such a big deal out of it?” Okay, I’d had the illusion that I was actually coming to live with my father, but after less than a day here, I’d pretty much given up on that idea.

Lachlan stared at his feet, the corners of his mouth tight with displeasure. “It’s not my place to explain it to you.”

But I got the feeling he really wanted to. “Please, Lachlan,” I said, trying to sound desperate and pathetic. Okay, not that that was hard to pull off, but I wasn’t trying to hide it. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

For half a second, I thought he was going to cave. But then the line of his mouth firmed up and he shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s not my place.”

Please let my father come for me tomorrow, I prayed.

“You should get some sleep,” Lachlan said, rising and picking up the tray.

On cue, a massive yawn welled up from my chest. He smiled at me. “I’ll be right on the other side of the door,” he told me. “If you need anything, just holler.”

I swallowed my next yawn as Lachlan left and barred the door behind him.

Maybe I was just being contrary, but the fact that Lachlan had suggested I go to sleep made me want to stay awake. Not the easiest thing to do when battling jet lag, a full stomach, and a cheery fire. If I didn’t keep myself busy, I was going to lose my battle against sleep, so I dug my laptop out of my backpack. I thought maybe I could shoot a quick e-mail out to Mom, letting her know what a mess I was in. Maybe she’d sober up enough to come riding to my rescue. But—surprise, surprise—my prison cell didn’t come equipped with Wi-Fi. I had a couple of dirty books I’d downloaded from the Internet—since I pay the bills in the family, my mom never notices the charges—but reading dirty books while locked in a cell just seemed … wrong.

For the first time since I’d snuck out of the house to catch my flight, I felt a twinge of guilt. Could Mom hold herself together enough to pay her own bills without me there? I imagined her sitting, alone and sloshed, in our house with no water or electricity. Then I shook my head at myself. She’d been leaning on me more and more as the years went by, but whether she acted like it or not, she was an adult, and she could take care of her own damn self!

At around seven, Lachlan brought in another tray. My stomach rumbled. Those scones had worn off at least an hour ago. This time, the tray held an enormous panini sandwich, dripping with melted cheese and mayo, along with a small garden salad. I guessed this came from his bakery as well.

When he took the tray away, he once again suggested I should get some sleep. At that point, I was practically asleep on my feet, but I was still too stubborn to do as I was told. Just to prove that I wasn’t taking his advice, I started warming up my voice with a series of vocalises. Then I practiced the songs I’d been working on with my voice teacher before I’d run for what I thought was greener grass. I suspected Lachlan was listening, even through the six-inch-thick door, so I mentally urged myself to perform for him. Maybe his heart would melt at the beauty of my voice and he’d set me free.

Yeah, and I thought I saw a pig flying just last week.

I lost myself in the music for a while, the songs flowing out of me one after the other. While I sang, I almost forgot that my father was in jail and my aunt Grace was keeping me locked up “for my own good.” I closed my eyes and allowed the music to transport me to another world.

Eventually, I noticed a burning sensation on my chest. For reasons I couldn’t explain, the cameo had grown very warm, almost like I’d been holding it near the fire. I took it off and examined it, trying to figure out why it was hot, but it cooled off so fast I wondered if I’d been imagining things.

Once I stopped singing, it hit me again how achingly tired I was. My eyelids weighed ten tons each. Figuring I’d more than proved my point to Lachlan, I decided that now was the time to let the exhaustion take over.

I couldn’t see changing into my PJs under these circumstances, so I settled for taking off my shoes and socks and exchanging my jeans for a pair of loose, beat-up workout pants. Then I climbed into the small but relatively comfortable bed. It was dark out, and I’d turned off the overhead light, but there was too much of a chill in the air to turn the fireplace off. I fell asleep staring into the silent, flickering flames.

It was still dark when I woke up, completely disoriented. For the first few moments, I couldn’t figure out where I was, but it didn’t take much time for the memory to rush back. My head felt thick and heavy, and everything around me felt unreal. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was two a.m.I flopped over onto my other side, sure I’d be asleep again in seconds, but then I heard the sound of footsteps outside my door.

Belatedly, I realized that I’d heard some kind of thud, and that’s what had awakened me. I’d thought that it was some remnant of a dream, but as I heard the grating sound of the bar being raised, I decided it hadn’t been a dream after all.

I quickly sat up, scrambling to disentangle myself from the covers. Perhaps I’d heard more than I remembered, or perhaps it was just a premonition, but I felt certain the person opening my door wasn’t Lachlan. Seconds later, I was proven right when a man pulled open the door and stepped into my cell.

I stopped struggling with the covers, unable to keep myself from staring. Standing in the doorway to my cell was probably the most gorgeous guy I’d ever seen. He was tall—though he’d probably look like a midget next to Lachlan—and slender, with really long blond hair that draped his shoulders like a cape. It was too dark in the flickering firelight to tell what color his eyes were, except that they were very light—and had the distinctive upward tilt of the Fae. He’d probably have been too perfect to be truly gorgeous if it weren’t for the slight unevenness of his nose, which looked like it had been broken at least once.

He looked younger than most of the Fae I’d seen, though he was older than me. I wondered if he had a baby face, or whether he was really a Fae teenager. I supposed there was such a thing, even though Fae adults became effectively ageless.

He broke into a crooked smile, and I realized that I was staring at him like I was some twelve-year-old meeting the Jonas Brothers. I mentally shook myself by the scruff of the neck and managed to get the covers out of the way. My bare feet didn’t much like the cold stone floor, but I wasn’t about to take my eyes off the Fae long enough to put my shoes and socks on.

“Who are you?” I asked when he just stood there grinning.

“My name is Ethan, and I’m here to rescue you.”