A human seer and an elven prince have one thing in common: a missing sister.
Seraiah's dreams have a habit of coming true, but when all her dreams turn into nightmares, she fears for her sister's life. Each nightmare is a little different, but they...
The odd jolting movement slowed and then stopped altogether. There came a murmur of voices, sounding far away, but Sterling's brain struggled to make sense of what they were saying. She could only make out one word of every three.
Open your eyes, she commanded herself, but it was like they were glued shut.
No matter how much Sterling willed it, the heavy lids would not lift. Her body was not obeying her. She tried to move a hand, wiggle a finger, but nothing seemed to be working.
Suddenly, she was being lifted and then, just as suddenly, dropped.
Sterling tried to cry out as pain lanced through her body when it hit the frozen ground, but no noise escaped her throat.
"Careful." She heard a voice say from somewhere overhead. "If you damage the goods, we won't get our full payment, and I will take it out of your half."
A second voice rumbled in response. "How long do you plan to keep her under?"
"As long as possible. It will be easier without us fighting her every step of the way. We need to make it to the drop-off point, and then she isn't our problem anymore."
Drop off point? Who were these people, and what did they want with her?
"Princess is going to make us a pretty penny, aren't you?"
The sharp toe of a boot nudged at her ribs. Sterling wanted to reach out and grab it—fight back—but her body still wouldn't move.
This was the second time she had heard them call her Princess.
Who did they think she was? Was it some strange pet name they had decided to call her?
Sterling regretted leaving her father's stall. She wished now that she had never gotten up from her chair and been content with her boredom.
A shuffling noise brought her out of her thoughts. It sounded like they were moving away from her. Somewhere nearby, a horse snorted.
Sterling struggled again to open her eyes.
This time, she was successful.
She blinked up at a blurry image of trees overhead. The forest, her brain said—they must have taken her into the forest. It made sense. With the mountain pass filled with snow, the only way out of Ratha was through the woods.
She tried to sit up but found that her wrists and ankles were bound with rough rope.
"She's coming around," the second voice called from somewhere to her left. He must have noticed her movement.
"Dose her," the first voice commanded, and that foul-smelling rag descended over her face, blotting out the trees.
Sterling's last thought before the blackness sucked her under again was that she hoped the man-eating creature Freya had told her about would find them and tear her captors limb from limb.
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