Vasi stumbled over the soft sediment on the steep edge as she scrabbled for purchase. The ground gave way, and she tumbled, rolling end over end as she hit tree roots and fallen branches on the way down. When she stopped on the packed dirt of the road below, the wind ceased.

Vasi scrambled to her feet. “I’m not giving up! I’m coming back in there—”

The witch leaned out over the edge and said, “You’re not my problem now. Better flee, girl. Someone rides this way.”

How dare she? Vasi’s anger flared. The witch had delivered Vasi to be captured, but she refused to lie down and wait. Ignoring the throbbing from her wrist, Vasi clambered up the embankment on hands and knees. As she climbed, dirt and leaves rolled down beside and beneath her, but she refused to give up. She grasped a tree root and heaved herself several feet up the incline, muttering, “I’m not giving up.”

The pounding hooves of a horse and rider approached, scraping Vasi’s panic raw. Her hands moistened and grip slipped as she pleaded to any djinn listening that the rider would pass. That somehow he wouldn’t notice her.

The horse slowed and then stopped.

Kicking wildly, Vasi found a foothold and gained several more feet up the steep incline.

“Fetch,” Lord Baine said.

His horribly familiar voice bludgeoned her, and Vasi gritted her teeth to stop the scream of frustration. She glanced back, and despair called for her as five massive hounds bounded up the hill. Spittle sprayed from the beasts’ snapping jaws, and the shift in pressure on the soft ground caused the earth to crumble and slide out from beneath her.

Vasi screamed in rage as she tumbled down the dirt slope, even as the dogs barreled after her.

Vasi landed on her hands and knees on the road. She sucked in a breath, and a dog attacked, biting only Vasi’s skirts as she scurried away. The other dogs bared their teeth and growled, lunging and snapping as they herded her all the way to their master.

“Heel,” Lord Baine commanded, much closer now, and the dogs stopped their assault and hurried the short distance to him.

Vasi stood, brushed off her skirt, and then glared at Lord Baine.

His dark brows rose as a predatory smile spread across his lips. “I’m so glad I found you, my wife.”

“I am not your wife,” she snapped. “Nor will I ever be.” She stepped back. “I despise you.” With the next step, Vasi backed into the dirt wall of the embankment. She had nowhere to go. Burying her hands into her apron pocket, she clenched the hilt of the knife. “I loathe you.”

Lord Baine tilted his head, his intense gaze roving over her from head to toe. Finally, he met her eyes. “Ah, Vasilisa. I don’t actually care how you feel. All that matters is how I feel. You will soon come to understand, my wife; pleasing me is all that will matter to you . . . for the rest of your existence.”

He pulled out a length of rope and began working on the knot holding it coiled. While he worked, he continued, “Ever since I laid eyes on you, I’ve wanted you.” He glanced up at her, his eyes bright with lust. “But the wait just made the prize sweeter. Truly, you’re lucky you intrigue me so, or your ending would be so much worse.”

Vasi’s mind spun with incoherent revulsion. “Stop,” she panted. “Don’t you dare come any closer.”

Lord Baine merely chuckled.

Vasi unsheathed the knife and brandished it toward him. “I’m not joking. Stay away from me.”

Amusement lit his features, and he looped the rope before knotting it and then did it again. “I remember the exact moment I realized you would be mine. I came to your house on your stepmother’s invitation, and you were standing over your mother’s ivy-covered grave. Your fiery hair whipped in the wind, and tears glistened on your cheeks. Your eyes were so haunted with pain, and I knew. You were mine for the taking—”

“I will never be yours,” she snarled.

“Wrong.” He laughed. “You are mine. Everything about you . . . is mine. I’ll possess you, Vasilisa, and become all you ever think about. You will eat, drink, sleep, and move only when I allow it. I will own you.”

In a fluid thrust, Lord Baine whipped the loose end of the rope at her with a crack. The first strike made her stumble forward with a cry. A moment later, the rope touched her again, this time, a loop wrapped around her body, lassoing her around her arms. Lord Baine yanked, tightening her arms to her chest. He dismounted his horse and strode forward.

Vasi lifted the knife to the rope, and the moment the blade touched the rough cord, it split. There was no time to think about the sharpness of her blade, for Lord Baine charged.

He collided with her, the force knocking the wind from her lungs. She fell to the dirt, Lord Baine on top of her. He grabbed at her arms, and she kicked and swung wildly with her knife. She met brief resistance, and then Lord Baine was off of her. Vasi scrambled to her feet, heart racing. Before she could get her bearings, he lunged forward, seized her arm, and yanked her toward him.

Vasi’s vision exploded. Bright lights and vibrant colors blinded her, and she doubled over. Her heart pounded against her ribs. Lord Baine yanked on her again, and Vasi moved in one fluid movement, heaving all of her body weight into the upward swing of the knife. She screamed, opening her eyes, and buried the blade deep into Lord Baine’s neck.

Time stood still as if all of Ctyri held its breath, and Vasi stared as blood welled beneath the blade and dripped down his neck.

Vasi jumped back, yanking the blade out of the duke. The muscles and sinew gaped, and then the severed vessels gushed. Blood, black and viscous, spurted, spraying Vasi with inky droplets.

For a second, just like outside of the ball, Emeroi Baine’s figure morphed. The handsome duke no longer held her arms; he no longer existed, but a hulking monster made of oily mist in the shape of a man reached for her. Hundreds of chains, in a myriad of metals and alloys, snaked out from his transparent fingers. A rope of golden links danced around Vasi, swirling around her arms, and a golden cuff snapped around her wrist.

Vasi cried out, but then the image was gone.

But the dying man was not.

Lord Baine glared at her with rage-filled eyes. His hands clutched his neck where the wound now gushed, blood seeping through his fingers and soaking the collar of his shirt.

Vasi backed away, waving her hands as she whispered, “I didn’t mean to.” Her apology dried on her lips, and she returned his glare. “You. You were going to—”

Growls rent the air. Lord Baine’s hounds circled her, their eyes seeming to glow in dusk’s waning light.

“Stay back,” she cried, waving her knife at the animals, their master’s blood dripping to the ground in front of them.

The dogs bared their teeth, saliva dripping from their mouths.

Lord Baine slumped to the ground as he released a wet, strangled sound.

A loud hissing startled Vasi and the dogs, and she yelped as a snake, an impossibly large snake, slithered toward her on the road. The black serpent’s body was at least a foot wide and ten or fifteen feet long, and as it rose, it flattened its head, its tongue flicking out to taste the air.

Vasi backed away, crashing back into the wall of dirt, but the snake’s attention stayed on the hounds. The large reptile swayed and then lunged. Lord Baine’s horse screamed and galloped down the road. The hounds yipped and whined and followed the stallion’s cloud of dust. The snake rotated its head her way, and Vasi brandished her knife, but the creature turned and slithered up the road after the hounds.

Vasi sighed as her adrenaline waned and made her body feel limp and useless. She faced the steep embankment and stumbled forward, determined to return to the forest, but after two steps, her legs gave way, and Vasi sank to the ground.

Sweet djinn, Vasi had killed a man.

She glanced up. The setting sun made the duke’s slumped form appear to smoke and hiss with oily mist. She should feel bad . . . she should, but not one part of her felt remorse for having killed Lord Baine. He was a monster, and the world was better with him not in it.

A horse whinnied, and Vasi stood and spun toward the sound as a fresh wave of fear coated her. She waited, ready to scramble away from whatever rider would come upon Lord Baine’s body. Only, no one was there. With her next heartbeat, there next to the dead duke, a horse and rider appeared and stood motionless on the path.

“Prince Henryk?” Vasi gasped and sunk to the ground in shock. She balled her hands into fists, but there was no covering Lord Baine’s black blood. She glanced back up at the prince and frowned.

The man, dressed in fitted-black clothing, sat atop a stunning stallion, its coat as lustrous as polished onyx and just as dark. His build was similar to the younger prince as was his dark hair, but when he turned toward her, Vasi sucked in a breath, immediately knowing her mistake. From the top of his forehead to the top of his upper lip, the man’s features were covered in a mask of black mist. The bright white of his eyes shone through the darkness, but his irises, too, were the color of night.

“A djinni,” she gasped. Here, now. “I-I came into the woods to find you.”

The rider clicked his tongue, and his horse stepped closer.

Vasi’s heart pounded, and she tried to think of how to ask for his aid, but the words refused to come together in a coherent string. Finally, she blurted, “Will you help me save my father? Will you help me save Beloch?”

The djinni held out his hand. “Come with me. I will help.”

Vasi thought about it only for a moment. She still had her father’s knife, so if the masked horseman tried anything, she’d stab him, but she wanted so much for this to be real. Approaching the man on horseback, she said, “My name is Vasilisa. What’s yours?”

His lips tipped up in a half smile. “Nice to meet you, Vasilisa.” He took her hand and pulled her up in front of him on the horse. When she was situated, he said, “I’m Aksel.”