And speaking of the worlds…where was I? Easy enough to figure out, my groggy brain quickly realized. I’d been pulled out from the Otherworld, which meant I could either have been sent to the Underworld or the human world. The fact that I was still alive indicated I’d gone onto the latter. Why on earth would Abigail summon me to-fuck. There it was: the nausea again. I bit my lip and tried to sit up, not wanting to choke on my own vomit.
Only, when I tried to rise, I didn’t get very far. My hands were stretched above my head, tied to the headboard of the bed I lay on. No, not tied-cuffed. Cuffed with heavy steel, industrial-strength handcuffs. Bound or no, I did manage some semblance of sitting, just as my stomach betrayed me. A bowl got shoved under my face right at that moment, and I was grateful to spare the bedding and my clothes. I threw up twice before my benefactor gently asked, “Any more?”
“I don’t think so.”
I squinted up and found myself looking into the face of a young girl, heavily freckled and brown-haired, with a nose a bit too small for the rest of her facial features. She was still cute enough, though, and-she was a gentry. For a moment, I wondered if I’d gotten confused about the banishment. Was I still in the Otherworld? No. This was definitely the human world. I could sense it. There was a way that magic hung in the air-or, rather, didn’t hang in the air around here.
The girl took the bowl away and returned with a damp cloth. She wiped my face with it and then my mouth. A moment later, she returned with a glass of water, which I drank gratefully. All of her movements were gentle and graceful.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Cariena.”
“That’s really pretty. Where am I, Cariena?” I asked, tugging at the handcuffs. Those things weren’t going to budge.
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.”