Dorian snorted. “Eugenie, where in your jaded existence did you pick up this naïveté? If a human took one of our girls, it’d be for the same reason we’d take one of theirs. For the same reason any man would abduct a girl.”

I blanched at his implications. “But more than one?”

“He wouldn’t be the first man to prefer-ah, how shall we say it? Variety.”

I couldn’t see it of Art, not the Art who happily tended his garden and offered us beer and pop. He’d known Roland for years. They’d worked together. Was Art truly a kidnapper and rapist? Or was the girl just traumatized from being banished? It could be a pretty horrific experience.

I grimaced, feeling a sharp twisting in my stomach. I’d come too close to rape already in my life to treat even a hypothetical situation lightly. Was Moria a victim? Were there others like her out there? Maybe it wasn’t truly Art…and yet, her words had dark implications. The human blood. A mark like mine. The Red Snake Man. The crossroads to Yellow River. He had to be involved; I just didn’t know how.

I gave the horse one last pat and then mounted. “I have to get home,” I said, turning back to Dorian and Rurik. There was some mistake here, some mix-up. Art wasn’t involved in this. He couldn’t be, at least not in the way Dorian had suggested. “I have to talk to someone. Immediately.”

I waited for the requisite Dorian joke, but none came as he mounted his own horse. “Then we go different ways. Be careful, Eugenie.” For some reason, frankness and concern from Dorian was more disconcerting than his usual banter.

“If I’m right about this, then it’s a human matter. Should be a cakewalk compared to what I deal with around here.”

Dorian shook his head. “I’d have to disagree. Give me demons and restless spirits any day over human deceit. But if you need help, I’m here. Just ask.”

Again, there should have been a joke here. I glanced away, troubled by the way he looked at me. “Thanks. Hopefully it’ll be a simple matter.” How exactly? That I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure that roughing Art up would really accomplish anything-if he truly was at fault here. “See you later, Dorian.”

He nodded by way of a farewell. Then: “And of course, my dear, you may kill as many humans as you like, but please try not to harm any more of my subjects. If you can help it.” There it was, at last. The joke.

“Noted,” I said. I attempted a glare, but there was a smile on my lips as I did.

I set a hard pace back to my castle and the gateway that would bring me back to my own world. Crossing over at the Yellow River one would have been faster, but I needed to go to my home in Tucson and prepare myself before facing Art. Rurik matched my pace easily and mercifully stayed silent. He’d watched me and Dorian together the way a child watches his or her divorced parents, in the hopes that Mommy and Daddy might make amends someday.

My whirling thoughts made the trip go fast-as did the land’s quick route today-and we were greeted with a commotion when we reached the castle’s outer borders. A group of guards came tearing toward us, and my heart seized. What now? A siege? Demons? Kiyo? Yet as they got closer, I could see that the guards almost looked…enthusiastic.

“Your majesty! My lord! We found her.”

Rurik and I drew our horses to a halt and climbed down. I felt my legs scream and knew I’d be sore later. I wasn’t so practiced a rider that I could ride like that without consequences. I ignored the pain and turned to the guards.

“Who?” I demanded.

“We have her. The girl. The runaway girl from Westoria,” said the guard, clearly pleased at his success. Rurik and I exchanged puzzled glances.

“That’s impossible. We already saw her.”

The guard shrugged. “We found her out near the steppes, by the Rowan Land border. She matches the description and was clearly afraid of us. She tried to run away.”

“Take me to her,” I said helplessly. Had my guards found another of these kidnapped girls? It would certainly provide more information.

He led us inside toward one of the little-used rooms, explaining that they hadn’t wanted to put her in the dungeon-although her fear and desire to escape had required a guard. His expression turned uncomfortable.

“We, um, also had to bind her in iron. She kept attempting magic. They’re still not able to fully stop her.”

A guard like this could never handle iron shackles without causing himself intense pain. Sometimes, though, prisoners would be bound in bronze cuffs with a tiny bit of iron affixed to them. It required delicate handling by the captors but was usually enough to stunt the prisoner’s magic.

We reached the room, and the men on duty stepped aside for us to enter. There, across the room, a slim young woman had her back to us. Long blond hair cascaded down her back, and I had a weird, disorienting sense for a moment as my brain grappled with the possibility that Moria had somehow made it here before us. Then, as the girl slowly turned around, the torchlight began bringing out glints of red in the golden hair that little Moria hadn’t had. I realized what was happening even before I fully saw my prisoner’s face.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I said.

It was Jasmine.

“You!”

Even with her hands bound, Jasmine didn’t hesitate to attack me. She came tearing across the room, face filled with fury. I’m not sure if her intent was to kick me or simply throw herself at me, but she never even got close. My guards were on her in a flash, hauling her back. Magic started to flare around her, but one of the guards countered it with some weak nullifying magic. Her iron cuffs made magic hard to use, but the human in her gave her greater resistance. I turned on all of them incredulously.

“That’s not the missing girl. That’s my sister! How could you not know that? She was Aeson’s mistress!”

It was Rurik who answered. “A lot of the guard has changed since Aeson’s time. Many here came as a gift from King Dorian.” It was true. Dorian had warned that even though I’d won the Thorn Land fair and square, many of those who had served Aeson would have a hard time shaking that loyalty. Rurik had consequently sifted through the servants and guards, getting rid of those he didn’t think could be trusted.

“Still,” I said. “Someone should have known. Where the hell is Shaya?”

“She is away, tending to administrative errands,” said the guard who’d been so excited initially. Now he seemed deeply embarrassed and upset.

Jasmine, meanwhile, hadn’t ceased in her struggles to break free of the guards. Without her magic, she wasn’t much of a threat and seemed to realize using it was futile right now. She stood average height for a girl her age, but her build was slim, and she always seemed a little too skinny. Maybe that just ran in our family. Her eyes were large and blue-gray, reminiscent of storm clouds.

“You can’t hold me here, Eugenie!” she screamed. “I’m going to break free and kill you. Then I will be the one to bear our father’s heir!”

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “The song remains the same.”

To be honest, I was actually kind of surprised Jasmine wasn’t already pregnant and took it as a positive sign that she was still referring to it as a future event. The prophecy that loomed over both of us said that Storm King’s daughter’s son would be the one to lead the battle to conquer humanity. It hadn’t specified which daughter, and apparently, Jasmine was still hell-bent on beating me to it.

“It’s going to happen,” Jasmine continued. “You can’t stop it.”

“Are you out of your mind?” I demanded. “You’re fifteen! You have no business even talking about getting pregnant, let alone conquering the human world. You were raised there, for God’s sake. Do you know how much Wil misses you?”