And then was right at me, pointing finger and flashing eyes and that damned cherry-covered parasol and all- And then three things happened at once: the golden fey threw an energy bolt, Cherries threw a time spell, and I threw myself at Pritkin and shifted. But not far. Because we had to find Rosier, and where the hell was- Shit!

I shifted again as another bolt slammed down where we'd been standing. And then another, and another, like the damned fey could feel us or something. We'd no more materialized somewhere than he swiveled and threw again, deadly accurate and so fast that I was dizzy in seconds, just trying not to die. And then- And then I wasn't fast enough.

We slammed into existence on the hillside right next to the mill, because, Rosier or not, I was trying to get farther from beautiful death over there. But whether through chance or some kind of weird fey ability I didn't know about, a bolt was there almost before we were. I had a chance to see it flash, to feel the heat, to think-no.

And then to think, oh, crap, because the bolt just stopped, frozen in the air, inches away from my eyes. Which would have made me fairly close to ecstatic, except that I hadn't done it. And the person who had was just behind it.

"I-I can explain-" I told Cherries, whose face was currently almost as red as her favorite fruit.

"Explain?"

Okay, maybe not. And then a time wave tore through the air, which didn't make much sense, because if she wanted me dead, she'd just had a perfect opportunity. But I shifted anyway, before it could hit, and a second later we rematerialized on the roof. Because I needed a goddamned vantage point.

"Who are you?" Pritkin asked, voice full of wonder. "What are you?"

"Fucked, if you don't shut up!" I said shrilly.

He shut up. But his eyes were wide and he was drinking in the whole scene, from the battle still raging in the background, to the half dozen girls in white fanning out in all directions, to the half-naked demon lord headed this way, until he saw the girls. And abruptly turned and pelted the other way instead, flashing pasty buns as his speed kicked up his shirttail behind him.

And the golden fey, who was suddenly right on top of us.

The only hint I had was a flash of gold to the left, but my nerves were so keyed up that it might as well have been a neon sign. I rolled and threw at the same time, and froze one of those damned energy bolts three inches from my chest. And then tried to scramble out from under it and almost fell off the roof.

Pritkin caught me, his mouth hanging open in shock, and God, this wasn't the plan, this wasn't the plan, this wasn't the goddamned plan! It also wasn't the sort of thing you just forgot, sixth century or no. But dealing with what Pritkin had seen was going to have to wait because I was having a crisis and couldn't seem to breathe, and then I was gasping and choking, and scrambling back, away from the damned flaming spear and the bastard who had thrown it and even Pritkin, because fuck this! Fuck all this!

I grabbed the decorative curlicue on the front of the roof, and held on, my chest heaving. I honestly thought I might be having a heart attack.

Pritkin reached out for me again, after a moment, but I batted his hand away. Which was stupid; we might have to shift again, assuming I was able, which frankly didn't feel too likely right now, but sooner or later somebody was going to look up. The only reason we hadn't been found already was the amount of magic flying around, which was raising my hair like electricity and shaking the air around me and making my little contribution seem almost irrelevant.

Or maybe I was the one that was shaking. I couldn't tell; I couldn't tell. Reaction was setting in, and no, no, no, Cassie! You don't get to do this yet. You get to do this after. But my nerves had decided to take a vacation early and, oh yeah, now I was shaking. And crying, not for any reason, not because I was hurt-well, that badly-but because I had to do something and that was what my body seemed to have decided on.

I bit my lip and looked away from Pritkin, who seemed kind of at a loss, which, yeah. And stared around, tears making tracks in the dirt on my face and splashing onto the dirt on my hands and God, now my nose was running. I put up a hand to wipe away that indignity at least, all while telling myself to think, to think, to get it together and think- And then I stopped.

Not frozen, not spelled, but feeling sort of like it.

Because the golden fey was watching me.

I stared at him, and he stared back. I thought at first that it was just a trick of the light, the golden glow of his frozen spear gleaming in his eyes. But no. The pupils expanded as he looked at me, and then they slid over to the side and looked at Pritkin.

And no. No, he didn't get to do that. I'd just frozen him, and in my panic I'd thrown everything I had, which was a lot, which was a whole lot, because I was still hyped up on an entire bottle of the world's rarest potion. That was why I was sitting here shaking with fear and exhaustion and bawling like a baby. It was the reaction that usually came with freezing time, times a couple of exponential points because of my life. But while that little trick might wipe me out, it does something else, too, and stops goddamned time.

So how was he looking at me?

And then he wasn't just looking.

A finger twitched.

I stared at it, trying to convince myself that I was seeing things, that it was a trick of the light being reflected off the burning trees.

But then it happened again.

"G-give him the staff," I told Pritkin.

But Pritkin was shaking his head.

"Give him the damned staff!"

"I can't."

"Just give it to him, and maybe this will all be over. Maybe . . . he'll let us go?"

I made the last into a question, and looked back at the fey, who was definitely following this. But he couldn't move, not yet, so I didn't know if he agreed or was just waiting for another chance to kill us. But I knew how I voted, 'cause all the light fey seemed to be crazy, murdering bastards, but it was still worth a shot.

Only Pritkin didn't seem to think so.

"I can't," he repeated, his fingers closing on it.

"Would you like to explain why?" I asked pleasantly.

Pritkin swallowed. But his eyes were steady on mine when he replied, "The Svarestri were taking this to court. They must have been. There's no other reason they would have been on that road."

"So?"

"So I have to find out why-"

"No, you don't," I said, still pleasantly. And that was despite the fact that I hadn't been hallucinating. The fey's finger had just twitched again.

But my nerves did not appear to be responding this time. I wasn't even crying anymore. I thought maybe they'd burned out.

Which, all things considered, would be kind of a plus right now.

"The Svarestri were taking it to court, the king's court," Pritkin repeated, like maybe I hadn't heard him the first time.

"I know that."

"Then you know they must have had a plan for it. I have to find out what that plan was-"

"So find out without the staff."

"I need the staff to draw out whoever they were planning to meet. Nobody is going to pay any attention to me without it. I won't be able to find out anything-"

"You'll live!"

"But the king may not! We've discussed this. What if they plan to hurt him-"

"Hurt him?" I asked, and, okay, maybe my nerves weren't as dead as I'd thought. "Hurt him?" I threw out a hand in the direction of the freaking clash of the Titans over there. "Do they look like they need any help?"

"Listen to me," he said urgently, taking my hand. "That just shows how much of a risk they took stealing the staff in the first place. They didn't do it on a whim; they need it for something-"

"And you don't think that the . . . these other guys . . ." I waved a hand at golden boy, because I couldn't remember all these names and alternate names and damn the fey and all their freaking names!

"The Blarestri," Pritkin said helpfully. "Also known as the Blue Fey, or the Sky Lords, or the-"

"Whatever! You don't think these Sky Lords are able to find out what their counterparts are up to? They're all fey-let them sort it out!"

"If they were in faerie, I would," Pritkin said earnestly. "But they don't know earth well; even the Green Fey are rarely here and don't know as much about us as they think they do. But I know the court, and most people in it; I have connections they don't have, an identity already established that will allow me to move about freely, to ask questions without inciting suspicion." He glanced at the frozen fey, and why did I get the feeling he wasn't just talking to me anymore? "I can find out what the Svarestri wanted with this, and then convey the information to the Sky Lords, who can deal with it."

"And with you!" I said, openly glaring at the fey. "You've seen what they're like-all your life. They left you to rot before; do you really think they'll hesitate to kill you now? If you don't find out anything, they'll kill you out of anger, and if you do, they'll kill you to shut you up, and either way they'll kill you! You can't trust them-"

"I don't believe that," Pritkin said, also looking at the fey. "I don't believe they're all the same."

"And if you're wrong? You're gambling with your life-"

"-which is my choice, isn't it?" he asked, his voice soft. But I'd heard that tone before, and I'd seen the set of that jaw. Like a hundred times or more, because that was his do-it-or-die face, and God, I didn't need that face right now!

"Give it to me!" I said, suddenly grabbing for it, only to have him scramble back out of reach. And damn it, we didn't have time for this!

"You can come to court with me-" Pritkin offered as I lunged for him again. And missed, because he wasn't encumbered by fifty pounds of freaking wool!

"I don't want to go with you," I told him, hiking up my damn skirts. "I want you to come with me-"

"I can't do that right now-"

"Yes, you can!" I grabbed for him again.

"You're not listening to me-"

"I'm listening!" I finally managed to grab the staff and held on. "But there are things"-he twisted it away-"you don't understand"-and jumped back-"that I need to talk to you-damn it!"-because the infuriating man was like quicksilver. "Would you hold still a minute?"

"Will you listen?"

"I am listening!" And then I lunged.

Which might have worked out okay, because Pritkin was backed against the edge of the roof and had nowhere to go. Although, knowing him, he might have figured something out. Only he didn't have to.

Because the fey did.

The damned creature moved with liquid speed, tripping me up and sending me thudding into the roof thatch. And then through it, as the rotten stuff gave way under my weight, plunging a leg through. And then my whole body, as Pritkin tried to grab me and the fey tried to kick me, or, no, I guess he was kicking at the roof.

Which promptly fell the rest of the way in.

Which was bad enough already, but then the damned spear fell, too. And I thought mills were supposed to contain grain, not TNT. But we were halfway to the floor when the whole place ignited in billowing red-gold clouds that burst into being everywhere, like the very air was on fire.

And, just as suddenly, froze.

I had been falling butt first, so all I could see was Pritkin's unmoving, desperate face staring down at me, hand still extended, debris from the roof that was in the process of flaring up, and fiery sparks everywhere, like glowing rain.

That began to move, sluggishly, in the air around me as I fought and twisted.

"The grain's on fire," someone said. "Get out!"

"No! She's fighting it off. Grab her!"

But whoever was talking wasn't fast enough. I tore myself out of the spell a second later, landing in a panting heap on some sacks of grain, before rolling off onto a dirt floor. Only to be almost incinerated when the air around me went up like a firestorm.

It was full of floating yellowish dust, the grain in question, I guessed, which ignited like gunpowder. But it didn't burn me, because I'd never stopped moving. I rolled out of the way just as a new time spell boiled through the old one, taking another section of the room back into real time. And sending it up in a boiling column of fire.

And then another one, and another, flared to life all around me, as I ducked and dodged and rolled and looked frantically around for Rosier. And found three different Pythias instead, the power emanating off them almost blinding. There was Gertie, the old one from Amsterdam she'd called Lydia, still all in black, and some young girl in elaborate robes.

And then I spied Rosier, over by the door, frozen among half a dozen acolytes, still staring upward at the Cassie-shaped void in the sparks. The one right beside a stack of grain bags piled up like a pyramid- Or a staircase.

I grabbed an almost-empty flour bag off the floor and slung it through the mass of sparks in front of me, sending a wave of them flowing at the crowd by the door. And while they were blinded, I ran, weaving through the boiling columns of air, scrambling up the makeshift stairs, my hand reaching out because I had to touch Pritkin to shift him out of someone else's spell. But it wouldn't take much, just a single touch, and then to Rosier, and then we'd be gone and let's see them catch me!

But I'd forgotten about the golden fey, who had remained in place, as still as a statue. But who had apparently shrugged off Gertie's spell as easily as he had mine. And whose hand now moved in a gesture so small I'm not sure the others even saw it, but that sent me flying- Straight into a time portal that the old Pythia had just opened up.

It was the same kind that she'd used on me in Amsterdam, which had sent me back to my own time before I had a chance to realize what was happening. But I had more experience now, and a whole bottle of Tears under my belt, and this time I fought it, tearing and clawing in front of a swirling black maw that jerked and pulled and twisted, leaving me caught between earth and sky, between two different times, between hope and utter failure.

"Demmed girl's stubborn," she told Gertie, who narrowed blue eyes at me.

"Please," I begged her. "I'm not trying to hurt anything! I'm just trying to remove a spell-"

"There's no spell here that concerns you, girl."

The young Pythia stepped forward, gold-chased robes sending a swirl of sparks into the air. And threw out a hand glinting with jewels. And, immediately, the pull from behind became exponentially stronger.

"No! You don't understand!" I panted, trying to concentrate while putting everything I had into staying put. "I don't want to change time-"

"Then you should be glad to know that you haven't," Gertie told me. "You may have led those fey on a merry chase, but in the end, you only brought them back to where they would have been in any case. Those you killed would have died in the battle anyway."

Lydia nodded. "Time's not so easily undone as all that."

"I don't want to undo it! I want to save him!" I tried to look up at Pritkin, but I couldn't see him anymore. The portal was pulling me back, and all I saw was darkness.

"Save yourself," Gertie advised. "Let go. Or let it rip you apart."

"No-please-just listen for a minute-"

But Gertie wasn't listening. Gertie was flinging out a hand.

"Please! I don't have any more Tears! I can't come back again!"

"Good," she told me, and threw.

And the next thing I knew, I was hitting the polished floor of my suite's atrium, feeling like I'd been shot out of a cannon. And skidding and rolling and slamming into the wall as if I had been, too. And then landing on the floor, where I sprawled in a battered heap, dazed and disbelieving.

But not as much as when I looked up.

And saw the blond acolyte step out of nothing to stare at me, burn marks still fresh on her skin.