The riverboat made good time, and by noon the land bordering our passage had widened, and we floated in the peaceful Bay of Arvogale. I'd never seen water that stretched on and on, seemingly forever, and its vastness filled me with longing. The ocean glimmered red and gold atop its deep blue depths, reflecting the light in much the same way the jewels on Ubiqua's throne reflected the torches of the Great Redwood. Waves beat against the boat and shore in a ceaseless rhythm, counting out Nature's heartbeat, while the whitecaps on the horizon formed an inaudible chorus.

A visit here while still in possession of my elemental connection would have been intense, with the hum of every water molecule vibrating through my body. But even without my wings, I did not fear the ocean's power in the same way I had the river. The ocean was infinite; I was finite and fleeting. To fear it would have been similar to fearing the aurora. The muscle of those waves was so beyond my control and comprehension that an aversion to it was pointless, leaving reverence the only sensible alternative.

Shea and I left the riverboat station in the company of Gwyneth and her father, whose name we finally learned was Leo Dementya. He had become the owner of DemenTransport upon his father's death, inheriting a fleet of ships so remarkable they'd been lent to the military during the FaerieHuman War, a generation before Governor Ivanova's time. The company had only grown since then, and Dementya was one of the most prominent names in Sheness, probably in the entire Warckum Territory.

How different our accommodations might have been if Dementya had known we were fugitives, that Shea had stolen close to half her weight in gold from his friends, or that my cousin was the infamous Pyrite who had robbed him many times over.

We landed at one of the docks owned by the transport company, and footmen attached to a gold-embellished carriage boarded to claim Gwyneth's and her father's luggage. Shea and I maintained possession of our packs and followed after our hosts to be waved through the military checkpoint where travel documents were examined. Apparently Leo Dementya's endorsement was all it took to negate the Governor's strict laws and security measures.

We ate lunch in a restaurant by the bay, and for the first time I tried shellfish, concluding it was an acquired taste. In the Faerie Realm, river fish might be served, but our Realm did not extend to the ocean. After the meal, Shea and I waited while our host took care of some business matters and Gwyneth made the rounds of friends. I didn't mind being left on our own, glad to be relieved of the pressure to make small talk. Shea clearly felt the same; she cradled her head in her arms on the tabletop, looking desperate for a nap.

It was late afternoon by the time we were tucked into the carriage pulled by six black horses that we'd earlier espied. Trunks and travel bags had been strapped to the top of the coach, although the packs Shea and I had refused to surrender were nestled at our feet. I glanced at my friend, who was fingering the looking glass necklace her father had given her. Thatcher had said it would bring her luck, and the salesman peddling similar items prior to Eskander's execution had claimed the necklaces were for protection; that they could hoodwink people and tame magic creatures. Could there be some power in the pendant? The Sepulchres in the caverns under Tairmor had seemed to react to it, and at times it felt like we were luckier than we should have been. But it wasn't possible. Objects couldn't be infused with magic any more than could wingless Fae. I gazed once more out the window of the carriage, preferring to contemplate scenery instead of fantasy.

We were traveling south, the ocean to our west, the city of Sheness lying to our east, and I didn't know which sight was more captivating. On one side, the setting sun lengthened its arms in pale shades of rose, silhouetting the amethyst clouds and dropping brass tears upon the entire surface of the water until it shimmered so brightly it was difficult to behold. Ships with white sails were frozen specters across the seascape, as though painted on the horizon. There was a salty smell in the air, and gulls dove and swooped in an unending quest for fish.

On the other side, Sheness sprawled, gritty and untamed, her factories belching smoke, her cobblestone streets overrun with wagons, carriages and people, her buildings marked with artwork and scrawled profanities. While Tairmor was stately and organized, Sheness was chaotic and belligerent. Even from a distance, I could hear the clatter and buzz of a city that never slept. She held intrigue, danger, mystery, and more than a few notorious names and faces, but not a speck of Nature's beauty. She was man-made, a portrait of humanity's best and worst, so intertwined they were indistinguishable from one another.

"It's a lot to take in, isn't it?" Gwyneth commented, and I gave her a wry smile. She and her father, seated across from us, had made occasional attempts at conversation during the ride, but for the most part, they had left Shea and me to our gawking. When we turned into a drive marked by a pair of stone columns, Gwyneth drew our attention to a group of buildings up ahead. "Here we are, safe and sound. Welcome to the Dementya Estate."

Gwyneth's family home had the look and feel of a castle, the impression aided by turrets that topped its three-story stone walls. Built on a bluff, it overlooked the ocean, and was as old as the family to which it belonged, though it had been updated over the years to permit gas-powered lamps and indoor plumbing. Servants' quarters, a stable, a groundskeeper's shack and several storage sheds made up the other buildings, forming a small village unto themselves. Tall, glass-shaded lamps sent fragmented orange light spreading across the twilight grounds, and the horse's hoofbeats echoed in the courtyard, giving the impression we had entered into a dream.

We were ushered inside by servants, to be awed by the heavy woolen tapestries, gilt-framed paintings, and marble statues that adorned the large rooms, recalling the lavishness of the Governor's mansion. We were given a chance to wash and refresh ourselves, then joined Gwyneth and her father in the dining room, where the light of a large chandelier with teardrop pendants reflected off the shining floor. Flames crackled in two large fireplaces to add warmth, and a wall of windows granted a view of the water. Winds frequently and audibly battered the house, but it stayed firm on its foundation, as solid and substantial as anything humans could construct.

The meal was served in several courses at a table smoother than the backs of my hands and darker even than the bark of the Great Redwood. Though we did not inquire, Leo informed us that there was no Lady Dementya, his wife having passed away some years ago. He turned out to be a pleasant man with whom to converse, although we were limited to topics he considered appropriate for his daughter. Evidently in the upper echelons of the Warckum Territory, women were supposed to be protected and uninformed, though neither concept seemed to suit Gwyneth. Based on our experiences with her, she had plenty of knowledge and wits about her, traits she managed to keep hidden from her father. She laughed and fawned over him, and I had the impression he thought her ideally stupid, the epitome of a well-raised young lady.

Having been raised in the midst of court life, I was comfortable dining in rich surroundings, but Shea was so nervous her hand shook as she raised her wineglass for a sip. Fortunately, Dementya placed no further demands on us. He seemed to view us in much the same way he did his daughter, and was only marginally interested in our reasons for being in Sheness.

"You're young to be traveling on your own," he commented at one point. "I assume you're here to visit family?"

Though Leo hadn't intended to provide us with a rationale, we embraced it nonetheless. Shea nodded, while I found it amusing to flirt with the truth.

"We're here after a cousin of mine. We hope to convince him to return home with us."

"And where is home?"

"East of here," I replied, although the entire rest of the Territory was east of here. I hoped he would let my foppish answer pass, since if pressed for specifics I would be unable to lie.

"From Tairmor?" he persisted, and I groaned internally, glancing surreptitiously at Shea.

"No," she piped up, accurately reading my plea for assistance. "A small town on the other side of the Fere."

"I see. Is this your first time in our city?"

Shea suddenly looked like her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth. From what she'd told me, the only other time she'd been in Sheness was when her family had been trying to flee the Territory. Her memories were written all over her face, so I hastily repaid the favor and rescued her.

"Yes, and I'm hoping we'll have time to explore it." Sheness was the only major human city in Warckum that I hadn't yet visited. While I wanted to find Zabriel, part of me hoped the quest would lead us through every inch of the gritty metropolis. "Do you have any suggestions on where to start?"

Leo chuckled. "Why, start in my shipyards. The ships are the most impressive part of Sheness, and mine are irrefutably the best. The rest of the city is, I'm afraid, a bit derelict. But there's history here, if you're willing to look for it. This was the first human settlement in the Warckum Territory. By all means, return here and I'll lay out a guide for you."

"Thank you. That sounds wonderful."

"I'll let Gwyneth make the arrangements for you to tour the docks. Perhaps we can take you out on one of the vessels. If you've never been in Sheness before, then you've never ridden the crest of the ocean. It's a bit more exciting than cruising along in a riverboat."

"We'd like that very much." I dabbed at my mouth with my napkin, the smile on our host's broad face telling me I had made a favorable impression on him. "Thank you for your hospitality. You've been extremely kind to us. But I'm afraid the exhaustion of travel is sneaking up on us, and we'd best find lodging before it arrives."

"You're quite welcome. And I shouldn't have kept you so late. Traveling can be tiring for us all." Leo stood and came around the table to clasp my hand. "I took the liberty of sending one of my men ahead to reserve a room for you and Mary at a lovely inn on the outskirts of the city. I wouldn't want you to end up in an unsavory neighborhood."

"Again, I thank you. But you needn't have gone to such trouble."

"No trouble at all." Turning to his daughter, he added, "Gwyneth, would you make sure the arrangements are in place for these young ladies and see them on their way?"

"Yes, Father."

With a bow, Leo retreated from the dining room, leaving Gwyneth to usher Shea and me through the wide corridors to the front entry. While we waited for a servant to retrieve our cloaks, she picked up two packages wrapped in elegant paper from atop a side table.

"I think you'll find these useful," she explained, extending one of the mysterious parcels to each of us. "Everyone underestimates the wind on the coast. These will keep you warmer than what you've been wearing. They are, of course, my gift."

I thanked her as I had her father, although I couldn't prevent a dubious undertone from entering my voice. Shea was not so subtle and spoke her doubts out loud.

"That's it then? All you wanted from us?"

Gwyneth flashed her white teeth in an unsettling grin.

"I never wanted anything from you. When you have this much to give-" she spread her arms and looked about the massive foyer "-keeping it to yourself is tiresome. Now, if you're ready, there's a hansom cab waiting outside. The driver knows where to take you."

With a stomach full of delicious food, it was difficult to be cynical, and I shook her hand, an apology hidden within the gesture. Shea did the same, and we stepped into the biting wind, rushing to close the doors of the cab around us. Once we had settled across from each other, the driver snapped the reins to move the horses off at a trot, and I waved to Gwyneth where she stood in the doorway of her family's mansion. Then I grinned at Shea.

"What are we waiting for?" I asked, giving my package a shake.

Soothed by the heat emanating from the coal in a grate below our feet, we ripped into Gwyneth's presents, not quite believing her hints about their contents. But our eyes met in disappointment when beautiful red velvet cloaks lined with white fur and embroidered with gold thread fell into our laps.

"Well, she was right," I ventured. "They'll keep us warm."

"Yes, but they're boring compared to what I was expecting." Shea's bottom lip stuck out in a pout. "She threw a man into the Kappa just so she could bring us home and give us cloaks?"

I laughed and patted her cheek. "I guess so. I was starting to think she knew something about our real reason for being here, or at least that she was planning to sacrifice us in some elaborate Dementya family ritual."

"I suppose we shouldn't be let down about that last bit."

"I think I am a little. I've never been a sacrifice before."

Shea's pout was dissipating, and she tugged on her hair with a frustrated growl, drawing a chuckle out of me.

"You think I'm funny?" she retorted. "Well, you're hilarious around rich people."

"Oh, really?"

"You say things like you needn't have and we'd best do this and that. You sounded like a popinjay in there."

"A what?" I tried hard to sound offended, but it wasn't working. My cheeks hurt from smiling.

"You know! A dandy. A coxcomb. A carpet knight!"

She flung her wrapping paper at me, particularly proud of this final insult. I huffed, then wadded up the paper and flicked it at her face. My aim was perfect, and it bopped her on the nose.

"This carpet knight got you one hell of a free dinner," I cackled.

"Then please take credit for getting us these boring cloaks, as well, popinjay."

"But what if they're not boring? Maybe there's a map to the pirates' den hidden in the lining."

Though I was joking, we both took a quick look, our enthusiasm a sign that Dementya's wine had gone to our heads. Discovering nothing, we snuggled into our new garments and settled back on the bench seats.

"I guess we'll just have to find Zabriel the hard way," I concluded, thinking that all in all, this had been a good day.

Now that we had left the Dementya Estate behind, traffic on the road was picking up, and lights from passing coaches flitted over our faces. Though we were in good hands, the questionable things I had heard about Sheness began to tinker with my mind. I hoped we would soon arrive at our place of accommodation.

Our carriage wheel hit a rut, and Shea and I emitted matching shrieks as we pitched to one side, a loud bang indicating the door of the hansom had been flung open and closed. Then we threw our hands over our mouths until the carriage had righted itself. Meeting each other's eyes, we broke into laughter at our synchronized overreactions. I was about to tell Shea that we really were turning into popinjays when a passing lamp illuminated the interior. My words caught in my throat, numbness shooting like frost all the way to my fingers and toes.

Shea and I were no longer the only people in the cab. A shadow had crawled in beside her and was crouching in wait for its best opportunity to attack.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

THE GREAT DEADWOOD.

Bombarded by images of Sepulchres, highwaymen or worse, I shouted to alert Shea to the intruder, then jumped up and hit my head on the ceiling of the coach. She sprang toward the door, apparently to leap into the street, but our uninvited guest gripped her arm, a gloved hand sliding over her mouth like a door latch locked tight.

"This is the problem, dear," the interloper hissed, the resonance of the voice definitely male and definitely familiar. "You keep supposing you're going to find Zabriel. You haven't considered that he might find you instead."

"Mother of Nature," I breathed, mind reeling.

I collapsed onto my bench seat, eyes unfocused, but not because of the lump forming on the back of my head-because of the form taking shape before my eyes. Temporarily robbed of speech, I raised a shaky hand to calm Shea, who was putting up a mighty fight. Though she didn't understand what was going on, she surrendered, and our new passenger released her. Eyes and hair wild, she scrambled to the opposite side of the carriage.

"It's all right, love," he said to her, removing a top hat from his head of silver-blond hair and tossing it next to me on the bench. "Anya can vouch for me."

Shea was pale and quivering in the disjointed light from outside, but she straightened as realization dawned.

"You son of a bitch," she gasped. "You son of a bitch. You're Zabriel."

He bowed his head with a smirk, which served to transform Shea's incredulity into anger. She let out a battle cry and unleashed a kick to his side that would have sent him back out the door had it still been open.

"Shea, don't!" I cried, half expecting the driver to stop the horses to see what was going on inside the coach.

Shea wasn't in a mood to listen. She wound up for a second attack, but Zabriel was quick to divert her blow. In another instant, he was twisting her arm behind her back and pinning her to the wall of the cab. She grimaced, her face toward me, one round cheek flattened against the black-painted wood.

"Oww," Zabriel muttered, feeling his ribs with his free hand, the jest gone from his voice. "Is this how you always say hello? Because I'm guessing you don't have many friends."

"Go to hell."

"Stop it, both of you," I snapped, struggling to come to terms with the unexpected twist the evening had taken. My gaze went to my cousin, silently pleading with him to come closer and prove I wasn't dreaming.

Deserting Shea, Zabriel slid to his knees on the floor of the cab. He took my hands in his, and I looked into his dark, almond-shaped Ivanova eyes, which carried in them so many of my own memories. His hair sprang forward unregulated, and I reached out to touch it, then slid my hands over his cheeks and onto his shoulders. He was real, he was here, and he was safe.

Throughout my journey with Shea, I hadn't considered how I would feel if I actually ended up face-to-face with my wayward cousin, and now I was in such turmoil that I didn't know which emotion would dominate. I was happy-more than that, I was euphoric. But I also wanted to slap him so hard his relations on both sides of the Bloody Road would sit up in their beds. I wanted to scream at him; I wanted him to understand the bedlam of grief and rage and...and abandonment he'd left in his wake in Chrior. Yet I was terrified that if I did anything at all, he would disappear all over again.

"Let's see..." Zabriel mused in response to my silence. "I'm taller than you remember, and more muscled. And I'm a heck of a lot better-looking." He swept my thick auburn hair over my shoulder and winked. "That's it, isn't it? Come on, Anya, say something."

I stared at him, thinking of the things I needed to tell him but not knowing where to start. Then my mind skipped to the mutilation I had suffered. How would he react to it? Without conscious thought, I inched toward the back of the seat, hoping he wouldn't notice that I was different. I didn't know how or when I had come to be ashamed of what had been done to me, but my stomach was coated with humiliation.

"For years," I finally managed, "no one's known if you were even alive. And you think I care about your jawline?"

He peered at me through the shades of his eyelashes. "You can play that game all you like, but if I'd gotten uglier, I'd be hearing about it. Don't even try to deny it."

The urge to hit him for being so glib was formidable, but it couldn't overpower my desire to go along with him and pretend the past two years hadn't happened. After a brief, almost physical battle with myself, I hurtled into his arms. He grimaced, and I readjusted my position to put less pressure on his newly bruised ribs.

"I missed you, too," he said, still lighthearted, but I knew the moment of discovery would come, felt it arrive as he tucked his face into my hair, his hands curling into fists over the fabric where my wings should have been. His words became a whisper. "God, I'm so sorry."

At first, I didn't move, didn't acknowledge him; then I gave in and sank against him, willing to be weak in the circle of his arms. He and I both understood that silence could signify more gratitude than a thousand words of thanks, an embrace more support than a million promises. But most importantly, from my point of view, I determined that his wings were still there, the membrane, though shrouded, soft under my fingers.

An eternity later, he cupped my face in his hands and used his thumbs to wipe my cheeks clean of the tears that had appeared without my acquiescence or awareness.

"I'm okay," I assured him, taking his hands in mine, unwilling to dwell on the past, on years that had been lost and misfortunes that couldn't be reversed. Zabriel, the long-absent Prince of the Fae, was kneeling before me, and that meant the future could be planned. "I really am. But you could have chosen a better moment for your grand arrival."

I looked him up and down as he reclaimed the seat next to Shea and his smile drifted back into place. He was dressed in a fancy double-breasted coat, which I recalled from the wanted poster in Luka Ivanova's sitting room, and his boots folded down almost at the half, the butt of a pistol extending from one of them. He was tall and lean, and had shed the last vestiges of childish weight, revealing more angular features, as he'd so modestly proclaimed himself: sharp cheekbones, a rigid jaw, a mysterious brow. He was even handsomer than when I'd last seen him, the golden glow to his skin a testament to his health and vibrancy. I couldn't help thinking he'd done well by leaving Chrior.

"You may be right," he answered with a chuckle, then he shifted his gaze to Shea. "I do believe I've paid for my dramatic timing, though. Isn't that right, Smiley?"

"It's no more than you deserve," she retorted, not ready to forgive him for the scare he'd given us. "Where did you come from, anyway? Were you hanging on the back of the cab?"

"Of course. I'm surprised you didn't notice, since you seem to view yourself as quite the little soldier."

"I could kick you again, you know."

"Oh, let's not make a mess. The good man driving this cab has been so tolerant of our rumpus that I'd hate to have him cleaning you out of the grate."

Zabriel's hand played with the shiny hilt of the blade that was barely visible between his hip and the wall of the cab.

"Why don't we pause for introductions?" I interrupted, worried Shea might very well call his bluff. "Then if you'd still like to battle your way to harmony, you can go right ahead."

Though she sullenly dropped her chin, Shea nodded, while my cousin settled back with a smirk.