The girl sat down on a chair in the corner. “In the world of the humans.”

“I know that.” I tried hard not to let my tone get harsh. My leather from the fight was gone; I wore a T-shirt and underwear. “But where? What is this place?”

She glanced around, as though the room might offer some secret insight. The walls were painted pale gray and matched the bedspread, a pattern of purple and grayish blue flowers. There was a small dresser in the corner, along with her chair, as well as the narrow twin bed I lay in. There wasn’t a lot of space here-and no windows at all.

“The Red Snake Man’s house.”

“The Red Snake-son of a bitch. Art.”

My mind was still fuzzy, and I had a hard time grasping all the details of what had happened. I remembered bits and pieces of the fight. I remembered chasing the soldier and then Abigail banishing me…

But it was all still disjointed, and I had no recollection of how I’d gotten here. It was possible that was simply from the trauma of tearing through the worlds. Someone could have smacked me upside the head too, but the pain throbbing in my skull wasn’t that type. As I’d noted earlier, it was more like the hangover type. Only worse.

“Where is he now?” I asked.

Cariena shook her head. “I don’t know. He doesn’t explain his activities to us.”

“Us? Are there…” Again, my addled brain tried to remember what I already knew. Why couldn’t I line up my thoughts? It was like I had both the buzz and the hangover from drinking, all wrapped up into one. Us. Art. Red Snake Man. “Are there…others like you here? Other girls?”

She nodded.

“How many?”

“Five-no, four. They took Fara yesterday. Isanna’s next.”

“They who?”

“One of the men. They come sometimes. They look at us. Sometimes they just…” She looked away, unwilling to meet my eyes. “Sometimes they just…visit. But sometimes they make a deal with the Red Snake Man to take one of us.”

“Art,” I murmured. “His name is Art. Red Snake Man seems to give him some semblance of respect.” I started to rub my eyes and then realized I couldn’t with the cuffs. “Are the other girls chained up too?”

“Only the ones who resist.”

“Well, yeah, I guess that would include me. I take it you’re not one?”

“Not anymore.”

“Why don’t you leave? You must have some magic…even a little.”

Cariena held up her hands. She didn’t have handcuffs like me, but snug iron bracelets hugged each wrist, each with a tiny lock. The skin was red and swollen where the iron touched.

“Jesus…so you’re blocked from your magic. But, I mean, can’t you just walk out the door?”

“There’s iron…iron everywhere. The windows, the doors. They’re all bound with iron and spells. And locks. Besides…” Her blue eyes widened slightly. “I don’t know where I would go…not in this world…”

“Home,” I said fiercely. “You’ll go home. I’ll take you there.”

She shook her head, face sad. “There’s no escape from here. Not even for you.”

I eyed her curiously. “Do you know who I am?”

“You are the Thorn Queen. Storm King’s daughter. You are my sovereign.” She gave a deferential nod of respect. “And I know you are a great warrior and magic user. But if the Red Snake Man caught even you, then there’s no hope for any of us. Moria tried to escape, and she died out there.”

“Moria did escape. She didn’t die, and-” I stopped.

Why was my brain such mush? Why was I thinking so slowly? A great warrior and magic user. I didn’t need my hands to get out of here. I had my magic. The iron and steel that stunted Cariena’s magic had hardly any effect on me, and I would have had enough time by now to rebuild my stores of power. I reached into myself and then to the world around, seeking water and air, though not certain what I’d do with them. Blow the headboard apart? Oxidize the handcuffs? The decision turned out not to matter.

Nothing happened.

I felt nothing. I felt…well, human. I felt as I had for years, long before I’d had any clue I could touch any sort of Otherworldly magic. I was cut off. My mind touched only empty space.

“What’s wrong with me?” I asked, true panic starting to unravel in me. “My magic’s gone. The steel shouldn’t affect me…”

“It’s not the steel,” a voice suddenly said. “It’s the nightshade. And I think you’re overdue.”

Art strolled into the room, looking as dashing as ever with his tanned skin and movie-star smile. I had nothing but contempt for him and instinctually tried to break the cuffs. Nightshade…nightshade. Where had I heard that before? Rurik, I realized. He’d advised something called a tincture of nightshade to completely cut off Jasmine from her magic. Was that what I’d been given? He’d said it was the most effective…but that it made those with human blood feel dazed and sick. All of a sudden, I knew this fuzzy hangover feeling didn’t have anything to do with me being banished.

There was no real purpose in discussing nightshade with Art, so I got right to the point. “I’m going to kill you.”

Art laughed that hearty, deep laugh I’d once found endearing. “Forgive me if I’m not scared.” He turned to Cariena. “Go get some more nightshade for Eugenie. And make sure Isanna is dressed and ready to go when Abigail returns.”

Cariena was practically out of the room before he finished speaking. “I can’t believe it,” I said. “It’s really true. When I first started putting together this fairy sex-trade theory, I thought it was as crazy as Roland thought it was. But it’s really true. Where’s this Isanna going? Is Abigail taking her to her new owner?”

He leaned back and crossed his legs. “I suppose you could say that. I like to think of it as her new loving home. The man who bought her is very eager to welcome her.”

“You’re a fucking bastard,” I growled. “Selling them like they’re property.”

“Might as well be. And if it makes you feel better, I don’t sell all of them. Cariena there…hmm, well, she’s not pretty enough to get a good price. Easier to keep her around for house calls.”

“House calls.” I started to feel sick again, and it had nothing to do with the nightshade. “Basically, you’re whoring her out. You sell sex slaves and run a brothel-and yet, all the while, you play hero shaman like you’re doing the world a good deed. Roland couldn’t say enough nice things about you.”

Art straightened up, feet hitting the floor as a flash of anger shone in his eyes. “I am doing the world a good deed-this world. Those girls? They’re nothing. They aren’t human. And you…” He shook his head. “You’re one to talk about image. You play hero shaman too, when in reality you’re off commanding gentry armies. Does Roland know? Does he know what you really are? I’m sure he has to know you’re a half-breed mongrel, but does he really know the extent of it?”

White-hot rage burned within the drug-induced haze of my mind. “I think you forgot the part where I’m going to kill you.”

“And you forgot the part where I said I’m not worried.”

Cariena returned holding a coffee mug. I eyed it warily.

“What are you going to do with me?” I demanded. “You would have killed me already if you could, yet you probably aren’t going to let me go now that I know your dirty secret. Are you going to sell me off too? Keep me for yourself since you don’t like gentry?”

Art shook his head and approached my bed. “Eugenie, you couldn’t pay me enough to keep you around. I’d take one of these idiot girls any day. Turn on the microwave, and they’re so scared that they’ll stay docile for weeks.”

He gestured Cariena to his side and reached down to hold my head in place. I realized what he was going to do and began thrashing. With one hand he tried to keep me still, and with the other he partially held my mouth open.

“Do it,” he said. Obediently, Cariena poured the liquid from the mug into my half-open mouth. As she did, she mouthed, I’m sorry. The stuff tasted horrible, and I gagged on it. I tried to spit it out, but Art promptly covered my mouth until I had to swallow. That bitterness flowed down my throat, and I could feel a new wave of numbness start to sweep over me.