The two men behind him shuffled their feet. “Ah, my lord,” one of them said as he consulted the papers he held, “this is the trolls’ semiannual tribute.”

“The trolls gave the Queen a person?” The first male raised one eyebrow. He was richly dressed and handsome, with the characteristic blond hair of the Light Fae pulled into a queue at the nape of his neck, a sharp, angular face, and an ironical gaze.

“I’ve been kidnapped and unlawfully detained,” Sidonie said between her teeth. “I’m a Canadian citizen, and you have me chained up like an animal. No, that’s not true. Animals usually get treated much better than this. At least they get fed. I’ve been here like this since yesterday with no food and only stale horse water to drink.”

“Oh, dear,” said the man. He turned to look at his two companions. “How did this happen?”

Under his steady gaze, the other two attempted to stammer out an explanation. One forgot to tell the other of her presence. Or maybe she hadn’t been added to the inventory. She couldn’t have been added, or he would have noticed.

Oh… oh, yes, my lord, it did say so right there on the inventory list: one musician. No magic.

Listening to their excuses, Sid hung on to her patience by a thread. Finally she snapped, “At this point, does it matter?”

The well-dressed Light Fae angled his head back at her. “Why, no. I don’t suppose it does.”

She held up her wrist. “Will you please unchain me?”

The Light Fae nobleman gestured. “Harkin, if you would, free the lady from her confinement.”

One of the other men hurried to obey. As he unlocked the shackle and it fell from Sid’s wrist, relief washed over her, leaving her feeling light-headed. Finally she was talking to someone in charge, and what’s more, he was listening to her. It looked like this whole, long nightmare might be over with soon.

“Are you really a musician?” the nobleman asked with a smile. “Or did the trolls mess that up too?”

“Yes, I’m a musician,” she replied as she rubbed at her wrist. Should she tell him that the troll who had kidnapped her hadn’t really been a troll? Or should she heed her kidnapper’s warning and stay silent about his part in this debacle?

Watching her with interest, the nobleman asked, “Are you any good?”

She frowned at him. “As it happens, yes, I am, but the only thing that really matters is that I was taken and held against my will. I need to be escorted back to the nearest crossover passageway so I can go home again. If you need reimbursement for the costs of the journey, I can see that you get repaid.”

Although really you should take me back on your own dime, with a profuse apology. She managed, just barely, to bite back that acerbic comment.

“I see.” The nobleman looked at the other two men. “How close are we to completing a review of the inventory?”

The one named Harkin consulted his sheets. “We’re almost done, my lord. Actually, we only have the trolls’ tribute left to count.”

The nobleman turned to survey the pile of crates and barrels surrounding them. “Well, here it all is, so I’d say we’re finished.” He looked at Sid. “Come with me, musician.”

“Gladly,” Sid said.

She gave the other two men a look of pure loathing and followed the nobleman out of the stables. Surely, they would feed her something soon. The last thing she had eaten was the requisite bread and cheese at noon the day before. She felt dizzy and light-headed, unable to concentrate, and her empty stomach was gnawing at her insides.

She had questions she wanted to ask, starting with the nobleman’s name and where he was taking her, but he strode through the courtyard to an entrance to the castle, then down a series of passages, at a pace so swift she was hard put to keep up with him. After days filled with stress and an inadequate diet, soon she was too out of breath to speak.

The corridors on their route grew wider and more richly appointed, and they passed servants, uniformed guards, and various other personages who walked and talked together. Several paused to stare at them as they passed, their expressions filled with varying degrees of fascination and distaste, and Sid grew all too aware that she was carrying the filth of several days’ journey on her clothes and smelled like a barnyard.

Food first. Then a bath. Perhaps they would give her clean clothes, or at least wash the ones she had. She might even get a bed for the night then a trip back home. She didn’t even care if it was the same soldiers who took her back. She just wished very hard for all of it to come true.

At last, the nobleman paused at tall double wooden doors that had been ornately carved and bound with what appeared to be gold. Guards were stationed on either side.

Sid slowed to a stop beside the nobleman and caught her breath. Before she could ask any of her questions, he rapped on one door panel, then opened the door and strode inside without waiting for a reply.

Staring cautiously at the guards, she followed on his heels, stepping into a large, elegant room with high ceilings and tall windows that let in large bars of sunlight that fell across polished, golden oak floors.

Sid looked around, eyes wide, at the brilliant tapestries and paintings adorning the walls, the elegant sculptures, the velvet and mahogany furniture. While she had inwardly railed at the barely veiled prejudice the Light Fae had shown her on the road, the view of the castle in the distance, along with this walk through the interior of the castle, had shown her that she had her own preconceived notions that she needed to shed. This was no provincial demesne. There was serious wealth and culture here and a sense of great, sophisticated age.

A Light Fae woman sat at a large, ornately carved desk, her golden head bent over papers. She was richly dressed, in a yellow gown embroidered with green vines and white lilies, and her long curling hair had been dressed so that it flowed in a profuse mane down her slender back.

The woman barely glanced up at their entrance. She said in an impatient voice, “I’m not having a very good morning, Modred. I have a headache, and I don’t appreciate the interruption. What do you want?”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, my love,” the nobleman replied in a light tone. “Perhaps I can do something to make your day a little brighter. Here is part of the trolls’ tribute. A new musician. Apparently, she has no magic.”

At his words, Sid’s tired mind stumbled. Wait. His wording didn’t sound quite right. She wasn’t anybody’s tribute—she’d been kidnapped.