its haunches and wrapped its legs around her. Its strong scent made her gag, its sex prodded her belly. She shivered and felt the creature’s body shake with laughter. Oh, it knew all her terrors and nightmares. She had only a moment to wonder what other torments lay in wait for her when it sprang forward.
… and they were hurtling backward through a pitch-dark tunnel, so fast that Ilse could not catch her breath to scream. Starbursts blinded her. All around, voices rose into keening howls, broke off, burst out once more in a staccato chorus.
Where are we going? she gasped.
To find the jewels.
You know where they are?
I know where all Lir’s creatures are.
Without warning, it bit deep into her shoulder with needle-sharp teeth, then spat out a mouthful of blood. Ilse felt the creature’s grip loosen. She scrabbled to hold on, digging her fingers into its fur and feathers. It gave a rasping laugh and thrust her away.
You promised, Ilse cried out.
From afar, she heard the slow heavy beat of its wings.
And I have kept that promise.
Its voice faded as she plummeted through the void. Light changed to darkness; dimensions vanished. She was falling through a dark tunnel, silent except for the shrill whine of her descent, which echoed from the walls-not-walls, through the air-not-air that shrieked in her ears. Ilse cried out to the gods, to the magic current. Komen mir de zoubernisse. Komen mir de wërlt …
Her vision went dark.
* * *
SENSATION CAME BACK in bits and fragments. A yellowish light. Blurred. Something hard and warm against her cheek. Her fingers curled, felt the same smooth surface. Lying flat. Sunlight on wood. Skin, burning. Her heart beat slowly, erratically, as if unaccustomed to its purpose.
She drew a painful breath, tasted a ripe green aroma at the back of her throat. Just as quickly, the scent and flavor of the magic faded, to be replaced by the staler aroma of orange oils and smoke. Of paper and ink, and the memory of salt tang and pine. Melnek?
Her throat squeezed shut at the thought of her father. No, no, no. She’d abandoned him years ago, never to return. Never. No one could force her to. Not her father or Alarik Brandt or Theodr Galt. Then more memory returned. Her father dead. Alarik Brandt, the caravan master, too, executed by Raul Kosenmark. She was safe from them. At the thought of Theodr Galt, her certainty faltered. Galt was a man who never forgave any slight or insult. She had run away rather than marry him.
Galt could not find her, she told herself firmly. He did not know her new name or identity.
She levered herself up to a sitting position and assessed her condition. It was enough to send shudders through her body. Dark bruises covered her forearms. Her throat felt tender to her touch, and her body ached throughout, but especially her shoulder. Remembering how the creature had bitten her, she unbuttoned her gown.
Four crimson spots, surrounded by darker bruises, marked where its teeth had punctured her skin. Ilse flexed her shoulder and hissed. These were no pretend bites. She would have to find a healer.
Even as the thought occurred to her, the wounds closed, the bruises faded. She caught a whiff of magic in the air. It had an unfamiliar signature, not like any human one she had encountered. Anderswar and its magic. It wounded and healed without reason. Or rather, for reasons of its own.
A rap at the door startled her.
“Ilse?” called out a voice.
Alesso. One of the kitchen servants. He had come with Ilse’s customary morning tray. It was far later than she had guessed.
Ilse lurched to her feet in spite of her aching shoulder. Just in time, she recalled the magical guards. “A moment, please,” she croaked.
Her skin felt sticky with sweat, and she still wore the same gown from the day before. She dashed water over her face, and fumbled a robe from her clothespress to cover her gown. A few words dissipated the magical guards, a few more erased all traces of her magic. She hurried, unsteadily, to the outer door of her rooms. More locks, magical and otherwise.
She called up the semblance of a smile as she opened the door. “Alesso. Good morning. Please come inside.”
Alesso glanced at Ilse briefly as he passed into the room. He was a young man, slim and dark. She had noticed him the first day, thinking he could be a warrior or a dancer, and wondering why