Some might even have called him unattractive. He certainly wasn’t my type. I preferred a bulkier build. Darker hair. Still, I couldn’t deny there was something about him. A sense of barely coiled power and dangerous cunning that simmered beneath the surface of his facade of tight control.

As I stumbled down the mountain of rotting corpses, he slid off his horse. Holding the crossbow in his left hand, he strode towards me. He carried himself like someone unused to having his authority questioned.

Piercing gray eyes glinted and I felt myself being assessed from head to toe. His eyes lingered slowly on every inch of my flesh, stripping away all of my modesty.

He took a step closer towards me, sniffing the air in a way that reminded me unbearably of Barnabas. I caught the scent of green apples wafting off him, just before I snapped and backed away from him. Later, I would wonder about that. He smelled fresh. Nothing like Barnabas or the rancid corpses.

Still, I couldn’t bear that gaze raking over me any longer.

“Take a good, long look, why don’t you?” I tossed my long hair over one shoulder and was disconcerted to feel it fall on bare skin. “I assure you, it’s the last one you’ll ever get.”

One brave soldier hooted with laughter somewhere down the line. I grinned towards the soldiers, daring them to laugh again.

A glare from their young commander silenced them all in an instant.

The young man sneered. “I was trying to understand Barnabas’s strange fascination. You smell absolutely revolting. But then, I suppose lying on a pile of corpses tends to do that to one.”

He turned to one of the soldiers. “Get her some clothes.” He snapped his fingers. “No, on second thought, give her your cloak. Take it off. Now.”

I saw the soldier’s eyes widen. “But, my lord, my prince,” the man whispered, glancing at me surreptitiously. “You saw what she is. Her hair... She bears the mark...”

A prince, was he? He was certainly haughty-looking enough to be one.

“I know what she is,” the commander responded. “Better than you do, I have no doubt. Now give her your fucking cloak. We’re taking her back with us.”

Hurriedly, the soldier unfastened his cloak and tossed it over to me. I caught it gratefully, trying to ignore the look in his eyes. Fear or revulsion, I couldn’t quite tell.

“Prince or not, you’re quite mistaken if you think I’m going anywhere with you,” I declared as I accepted the cloak and wrapped it around me. “Thank you for the cloak, but I’ll find my own way home from this place.”

Part of that was true, at least. This wasn’t home. I doubted I’d ever get back there again. But I could leave this hellhole into which I’d fallen.

A moment later I found myself wishing I hadn’t spoken.

The young commander had mounted his horse. Now he turned to look down at me disdainfully. His nose, I noticed, was not only hawk-like but crooked, as if it had been broken before, perhaps more than once.

There was something about him that made me unable to look away. His eyes locked with mine in a silent challenge.

“If only the decision was yours to make. It isn’t. But if you plan to make this difficult...” He gestured to another soldier. “Find her proper clothes. Then bind her.”

And they did.

We rode towards a city, a strange procession of soldiers, horses, and me, staggering in front of the commander’s horse, my wrists chained together as I trod over uneven ground.

I could feel the prince’s eyes on me, sense his cold amusement each time I tripped and stumbled.

I’d already developed a seething hatred for my new captor, but I managed not to turn my head and look up. Not once.

Eventually though, he spoke.

“Where do you come from?”

I ignored him.

“I asked you a question. Clearly you didn’t belong in that place. So where do you come from? What were you doing there?”

I heard the snap of a whip and flinched.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

I bit my lip to keep the hysterical rise of laughter inside. Would this man truly whip me? I, who had until recently, been a princess of Camelot and a royal fae.

I might as well reply, I thought. Not with the truth though, of course.

“I don’t know,” I lied.

I wasn’t about to tell him I’d dropped in from another world after destroying my own grandfather, who may or may not have been the closest thing my world had to a god. And besides, whatever I’d used to accomplish that feat, I was pretty sure hadn’t managed to come along with me.

I hadn’t wanted to fully acknowledge it before, but the truth was... I felt weaker. Oddly empty. Dare I say it? Mortal.

Still, there was obviously something about me that had drawn these soldiers’ attention. They had said I was different. What was it that marked me out?

“Why are you taking me with you? Do you always accost innocent women you find on the road?”

He was silent for a moment. “You speak as if you don’t know who I am. What were you doing in that place?”

“I got lost,” I said blithely. “And I don’t. Know who you are, I mean. Should I? Know you? I mean, besides knowing you’re an asshole?”

He grunted as if annoyed, but didn’t raise the whip.

“It’s unbelievable to me that you can truly be so ignorant. But then, I suppose you’ll find out everything you need to know soon enough,” he said cryptically. Then, “Oh, fuck,” I heard him mutter.

I looked up to see a soldier jogging towards us. He was of a small, frail build and wore round wire frames lined with glass on his face. Spectacles. I had seen some of the nobles back home wear them before. I gazed at him with curiosity and he stared right back at me, as if completely agog.

“My prince,” he gasped. “I was told you had found...” He eyed me. “Found a woman of interest.”

“I suppose you could say that,” the prince drawled. “She’s not that interesting, Lucius. Quite dull, in fact.”

I ignored the jab.

“But... her hair,” the soldier called Lucius wheezed. “The color. It’s incredible. Absolutely incredible, my lord.”

That again? So it was my hair. I touched a hand to my head. I’d been told my fae mother had vibrant purple tresses. Not that I’d ever seen her hair. She had died giving birth to me.

In comparison, my hair seemed to have settled into a dull, rusty red.

More than once I’d thought of carrots when I looked at myself in the mirror at night. Right now, the curls were tangled and bushy. My fingers tugged at them but it was pointless. I needed a brush, a comb. And a hot bath. At the thought of being clean and warm, a slight moan escaped my lips.

“Prince Drakharrow, do you have any idea what this means?” Lucius whispered loudly. I had begun to think of him as a kind of secretary. He was certainly toadying up enough to be one. “You must take her before the court. Why, she might even be...”

“We’ll wait to speak of it,” the prince-commander interrupted. “I’ve already sent a messenger ahead of us,” he admitted, almost begrudgingly.

There was a tension in his voice that told me he knew very well what the other man meant. He just didn’t want to acknowledge it. Not yet. Why? What was it about me?

“Excellent news, my lord. Excellent. I knew I could count upon your wisdom.” I felt the toadying little secretary’s eyes drilling into me. “I can only imagine the stir this will cause. Just look at her, my prince–her hair is truly... well, red.”

“Yes, I can see that, Lucius,” Prince Drakharrow snapped. “I have eyes. Red hair. It is indeed red. Well, we’re bringing her back with us. The court will investigate the meaning of her appearance and settle the matter. It’s all very tedious. Now we must return early without finishing our investigation into the matter of the village. But what can we do? I live to serve.” I could almost hear his eyes rolling in annoyance.