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She was dead. Very dead.

Her life had ended, and once she had stopped twitching and providing free entertainment to the angry mob, they had all wandered away.

All except one man. One who had stood by the back, shrouded in a dark cloak, the hood pulled up over his head to hide his features. But she knew what she would see beneath it. Skin the color of a man not from the region and hair as white as newly fallen snow.

He had stood there and watched the entire ordeal. Never stepping forward to help her, but neither enjoying the scene. He stood there silently for a long time, watching her, as still as a statue, before he stepped forward. Untying the rope where it bound her to the tree, he lowered her gently to the ground.

She didn’t know why he bothered.

She was dead.

At least the pain had stopped. The terrible burning had ended and now felt like a dream, just like her life had been. Whatever life she had—broken, shattered, and missing pieces as it was.

The figure knelt at her side and lifted her into his lap. Supporting her limp weight with his arm, he stroked his hand over her hair, tucking it, matted with sweat, behind her ear. “My poor, dear princess…” He placed a kiss to her head. “Rest. I will come for you when it is time.”

Rest.

Rest sounded nice.

Exhaustion came for her, hard and fast.

Carefully, tenderly, as if he were afraid he might hurt her, he shut her eyes.

And she slept.

The dream shattered with a sound at the door.

Shooting up from the bed, Maggie felt her heart pounding in her ears. She put her head in her hands and tried to slow it all down. I need a vacation. “Coming. One second.” She had that where-the-fuck-am-I, what-the-fuck-day-is-it sensation a person got after being jarred out of REM sleep at the worst possible time.

Scratching a concerned-looking Algernon on the head, she smiled down at him. She didn’t know if the rat just always seemed concerned, or if it was a product of the fact that most of him was technically missing. “I’m all right.” She scratched under his chin. “Just been a wild ride so far. I think it’s only going to get weirder.” She paused. “And I just said that to a dead rat. What the hell is going on?”

Algernon scurried inside her sleeve, and she felt him worm his way up to the back of her neck, and then plop down into her hood. It’d hide him from anybody passing by, and it seemed the backpack wasn’t going to be good enough for him.

Honestly, she was happy to have the company.

Standing, she picked up her bag from the chair and, combing her fingers through her hair, answered the door. Rinaldo was there, watching her piteously, sympathetically, but with the stern and resolute air of a soldier. This wasn’t going to be fun—but it had to happen.

Now she was really glad for that nap.

Nodding, she answered his silent question. She was ready.

For whatever it was they had in store for her.

Somehow, she knew the rat in her hoodie wasn’t going to seem so strange by the morning.