Regaining consciousness was a matter of survival.

Cassie's mind provided her with enough awareness to choose—awake or asleep, alive or dead.

But her head was pounding, especially at the site of the blow she just barely remembered receiving. Her bones were also rattling so hard they ached.

So cold...

She curled onto her side and slipped her bare arms beneath something not quite soft—wood chips?—and she felt slightly warmer, perhaps enough to fall back to sleep.

There were weak flames flickering across the walls—rippling rock that lacked any definite sign of fairy inhabitancy—but it almost made no difference if her eyes were open or closed. So she chose closed. Better to be within her mind than without.

The darkness called to her. Wasn't she safer there? It was terrifying. But it was familiar and painless. Could she fall into it again and never return? Is that what she wanted?

It wasn't a jump or a dive, but merely a drift for an indeterminable blip of time devoid of anything. But, whatever pull was keeping her afloat there was severed by a stab to what she could identify as her ribcage.

"Get up!"

The voice. It was like glass being crushed by gravel. She could just barely tell it belonged to a fem-fairy, though it wasn't one she recognized.

Before she could recover from the confusion or the pain from the first blow, she was kicked at the base of her spine.

Cassie flipped to her back—a reflex reaction. It wasn't as if she was any better off that way. She brought her hands to her ears to protect her head. Her eyes were now open, though they struggled to focus. She was seeing double . . . triple. Still, she pieced together the face looming over her. Age was not kind to her. There was also a hollowness to her glare and a steely strength to her jaw that suggested callousness and ferocity.

The floating heads gradually melded into one decrepit face and body.

"Get her up!" she whirled around to say to someone else. The stiff strings of her gray hair slapped against her cheek with an audible crackle.

Heavy, deliberate footsteps made their way over. The fairy giant she recognized from her abduction popped into view. His monstrous hands swooped down. In one quick, practically effortless motion, he yanked her off the ground by her underarms, presenting her like a trophy.

"Remove the gown before she maims it further."

Cassie glanced down, no notion of what she might discover. The gala. The dress she wore was coated in wood dust, but it was still in good condition, its black color fairly forgiving. But she needed to keep it on. The sturdy fabric and flowing layers were likely the reason she hadn't frozen to death.

She was completely at this fairy-male's mercy. And yet she dangled in the air, unmoved.

"Those are crystals of black onyx. If you want to eat, you'll do as I say!"

And with that, Cassie was draped over his arm like a doll and had to suffer the indignity of having her dress unlatched in the back by a bungling stranger. With the one arm, he had a tight grasp on her waist. She would not fall and could not struggle. It was a challenge just to breathe or keep her insides together.

She was bobbled, maneuvered, and finally tugged free of the dress. The fairy-male caught the dress on his foot and she was set aside. Not steady to begin with, and weak on her feet once she tried to catch her balance, she stumbled to her hands and knees.

Her skin tore on her palms. And yet she looked up defiantly at the fem-fairy who received the dress and was giving the orders.

The fem-fairy continued to assess her. It was clear she was also considering the removal of Cassie's corset and petticoat, everything of value right down to her skin.

"I would advise you to refrain," Cassie lashed back preemptively.

"And why should I?" The repulsive fem-fairy suddenly stomped down on Cassie's left hand with her pointed boot and lowered to a crouch. They were face to face. "Can you make it worth my while?"

While Cassie was gasping from both the pain and the stench of her breath, her teeth decayed to black nubs, Cassie's engagement ring was pulled from her finger so abruptly that the skin of her knuckle peeled away with it. The silk scarf around her neck was tugged off too.

Once her hand was released, Cassie withdrew, kicking and fumbling into a sitting position a few paces away, cradling her injured hand. It was likely broken between her wrist and fingers. One metacarpal was clearly out of alignment.

"Contact the Aerial Palace," she said as authoritatively as she could, setting her hand beneath her leg. "They will pay a handsome sum for my safe return. And they will be much more willing to oblige if I am treated humanely."

"The palace?" she scoffed. "That must make you. . ."

"Princess Cassiopeia."

The fem-fairy burst out laughing. "Wandering the streets alone so late at night? I have trouble believing that."

"She might be telling the truth," said a voice from somewhere beyond the span of the torchlight. There was a faint outline of a fairy-male sitting beside the hatch that appeared to be the only exit from their rock crevice. He slowly hovered over with an open newspaper in hand. The Pyxis Freedom Press, she realized from its distinctive block lettering.

It was hard to believe it was morning already. If the Press contained anything that might confirm her identity, then it had to be so. This was good news. She had been unconscious through those uncertain hours where no one would automatically assume the worst. Now her absence would surely evoke a thorough investigation.

The bad news soon followed. The fairy-male began reading the High Society column: "'. . . Despite the celebratory mood, the Princess of Pyxis could not bring herself to play the part of a magnanimous figurehead. Witnesses say she didn't even stay at the ceremony long enough to hear Dr. Leo Labelle's speech. Sources have confirmed that he is her uncle and her only living relative on her father's side of the family. Furthermore, she made her fiancé, Joseph MacRae, look like quite the fool. Her black gown, garishly morbid from the bust-line to her pointed-toe heels, shouted to the masses that she is still mourning his dead brother. . . .' "

"I suppose you are the Princess," the wretched fem-fairy interjected, plucking wood splinters from Cassie's garishly morbid black gown. "But it's not as if they'll be in any hurry to get you back with those remarks circulating about."

"We could always wait until her mother returns, the true Queen of Pyxis," the fairy-male added with a lecherous sneer he pointed at Cassie's partially exposed chest. He had sturdy black wings and could read in English, clues he wouldn't think highly of the current administration. "She is coming back."

"I'm not foolish enough to argue," Cassie stated. Her tone earned her a slap in the face.

"Quiet, you traitor! To turn against your own mother. How very ungrateful. And then to side with the enemy . . . in their camp and in their beds . . . you deserve to answer to her Inquisitor General. But I am an opportunist, and I intend to see what you're worth to those Bottom-Dwelling imposters in acceptable condition. If Big Willie decides to keep you that way." She gave an exaggerated wink to Cassie and turned to go. The fairy-male beside her followed her out. "Come now, Reginald. I need you to draft a letter while I fetch a sum for the ring and this abysmal dress."

The hatch door felt like it crashed down on her when it slammed shut. The third presence that had been in her prison, the one who had undressed her, strong enough to lift her as if she were a plaything, was somewhere behind her. He had been silent through the entire ordeal, though now she could hear him breathing. Every so often his breath came out like a groan or a grunt.

There were woodchips on the ground and other debris, too, like twigs, dead grass, and pebbles. The area could have been a nest for rats or other small forest creatures . . . or for fairies unable to do better for themselves.

Before Cassie could gather enough rubble together, he came closer. If the fairy-male keeping watch over her wanted to do more to further her humiliation, he could have, easily, but she did what she could to cover herself anyway.

Trying to work faster seemed to do more harm than good. Her left hand was almost useless. Her right hand was shaking too. She could hardly keep anything in her grip.

And then, there he was, towering over her. All she could do was look up and beg.

He reached beneath his cloak. For what, she didn't know. A weapon? A blunt object, perhaps?

He swung the cloak off his shoulders and draped it over hers. It was leathery on the outside and fur-lined on the inside, plus warm from the body heat. Then he rummaged through his pocket and handed her a dried piece of meat.

She would survive another day and expressed a diplomatic "Thank you. I am in your debt."

He patted her on the head and began walking away.

"Wait. Do you speak?"

He shook his head.

"But you understand English."

He nodded.

"So that must mean. . ."

He opened his mouth and pointed to his lack of a tongue.

"I see you've met my mother's Inquisitor General," Cassie remarked.

The Inquisitor General had been in the realm's employ since before her grandfather was king. He did his job so well and for so long, he was very wealthy and likely had his connections, everywhere, even now. She had a feeling he was still in Pyxis, hiding . . . and waiting.

For a moment of what must have been recollection, it appeared as if a shadow had passed over the large fairy's face. Then he nodded again.

"Do you sign?" As she spoke the words, she also used Finger Speak, a language occasionally used by the mutilated or the hearing impaired.

This time her words brought cheer to his features. He was undoubtedly hired for his bulk, not his opinion. But it was not as if he lacked the words to say. There were just so few who would understand the language or care enough to "listen."

"Big Willie" was unfortunately not the first fairy she had met without a tongue. It was a fairly common punishment for an act of defamation against the queen, the administration, or anyone who had enough clout to make the accusation official. Cassie learned the language immediately after one of her students received the sentence. The fem-fairy child was only seven years old and barely ever said a strong word to anyone.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

And he did just that. Will was a baker. A good one. He was proud of his work and it earned him popularity beyond his neighborhood. In his case, that wasn't a good thing. Andromeda's elite soldiers, the Crown Champions, began frequenting his business. There was one in particular who ate an entire loaf of bread right in front of him and then claimed it was stale. The soldier demanded his money back.

After calling him a liar, Will tossed him the greens without a fight. The next day, more soldiers arrived, this time for his arrest. He served five years in a fairy dungeon and lost his tongue on top of that. Worse, his wife and daughter were evicted from their home. His wife died instantly for her "unruly" behavior. His daughter, he could only guess. He never saw her again. And he had no tongue to inquire of her whereabouts.

"She would have been about your age," he signed as he emitted a groan of a regret, "with dark hair and eyes . . . like yours, though if she looked anything like me, not nearly as pretty." He smiled, and then his expression went grim as he prepared to continue. "I didn't choose my lot. How else would I survive? Honest work is impossible to find when everyone is afraid of me, or disgusted."

"I apologize for what you've been through," Cassie replied with both her hands and voice. "It shames me that a relation of mine is ultimately responsible. And what I request from you is patience. The fabric of the society Andromeda and her predecessors have created cannot easily be undone. But the leaders now—we're doing our best—so that someday, there will be better opportunities for everyone."

"I hope you're right," he responded, "and I hope she never returns." He began to back away. "I'll let you rest, Princess. You need to regain your strength."

Cassie couldn't control the blip of laughter. "I have no strength."

"Yes, you do," he signed, his expression resolute.

He bowed and resumed his position as her sentinel. But this time, she knew whose side he was on. So she let herself drift back to sleep, one that was fitful at best. . . .

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