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Diarmuid held his hands out toward me. I was still so stunned by Esme’s abduction that it took a moment to process what he wanted.

I carefully passed Rhiannon to her dad. He was a quick study, adeptly balancing her on his shoulder like he’d done it dozens of times before. Babies are amazing, but so are parents.

“Let me know if I can facilitate the return of the witch,” he told me.

Witch? I quickly put together that he was talking about Esmerelda. I wondered if that’s what Evie called her as well.

“Return of the witch?” Kagan asked Diarmuid for clarification. “You mean Esme?”

Diarmuid looked at Kagan with pity and sighed heavily. Certainly, Esme’s abduction had cast a sigh-worthy pall over what should’ve been an entirely joyful occasion. The king didn’t answer Kagan, but turned back to me.

“I’ll get Evie and Rhiannon situated at home. Then I’ll be available.” I nodded. He paused. “My wife is fond of her, too, you know. I will help.” At that, he vanished with my heart, otherwise known as my daughter and granddaughter.

An indignant squawk let us all know he’d forgotten to take the dragon with him.

It looked around the room, blinked, gave another tiny squawk like it couldn’t believe it had been left behind, then disappeared as well.

I hoped it found its way to the land of dragons instead of the royal couple’s castle.

While I appreciated its protective instinct toward my granddaughter, I really didn’t want that thing anywhere near her.

Particularly in light of the fact that it was going to grow. A lot.

“WHERE. IS. ESME?” Kagan repeated, louder and more insistent this time. The number of people to be interrogated had shrunk.

I mimicked Diarmuid’s sigh. Aside from the fear I had for Esme’s safety, how could I not feel sorry for Keir’s brother?

Thunder reached the estate grounds, but came to a grinding halt when he realized his destination had changed.

The object of his nocturnal journey had left the dimension.

He heard what a human might think was the barking of a small dog nearby.

It was, in fact, the yipping of a certain species of crow.

The horse knew the creature was protesting his presence, announcing to all that could hear that a thing such as he had no business gallivanting about the mundane dimension.

Thunder agreed. With a mighty shake of his head, he evaporated, leaving no sign that he’d been there except for hoof prints that had churned up muddy grass.

Though Esme didn’t like surrendering control of her person, she was unafraid of her abductors.

She had the presence of mind to know that was odd.

She found it even odder that her bigger concern was how Kagan would react.

She knew he’d be afraid for her and probably feel helpless.

Questions were forming, but there was no time to begin grilling her captors before they’d seemingly arrived at their destination.

When they came to a stop, the nauseating feeling of motion subsided, the swirling gray mists receded, and the propeller-volume whirring noise ceased. Esme had never before felt this thing akin to motion sickness. She heard velvet tones wash over her mind when someone said, “Greetings, Sister.”

Esme spun around. Two dozen or so women with shaved heads, most wearing saffron-colored robes, were looking at a woman dressed in a robe of similar style, but with a hood and a commanding hue of scarlet. She guessed correctly that “Scarlet” was the one who’d spoken.

Sister?

“Who are you? Where is this? Why have you brought me here? AND! HOW DARE YOU!!!” Esme demanded.

Scarlet’s lips twitched ever so slightly. “Tea?” she asked as casually as if Esme had just arrived at a garden party.

After a deep and indignant breath, Esme calmed herself and answered. “No. I do not want tea. Either answer my questions and put me back where you found me, or don’t answer my questions and put me back where you found me.”

As if the novelty of seeing a visitor, or more accurately victim, had worn off, the collective appeared to become bored at the same time. All but Scarlet began moving away, disappearing to what or where Esme couldn’t tell.

She took another, longer look around. They were standing on a marble pavilion with a huge inlaid design in the center.

The four cardinal points were depicted on top of a starburst design.

The immense circular stage seemed to be hovering in the clouds.

No walls. No ceiling. When the saffron-clad onlookers left, they’d disappeared into nothingness, leaving only Scarlet and twelve guards in black who seemed to be standing guard at evenly spaced stations on the edge of the pavilion.

It was impossible to tell if the guards were male or female because they were hooded and masked.

The only thing that could be said with certainty was that they were uniformly tall and imposing.

Scarlet held up her hand. “I will answer your questions, Esmerelda, but since that may take a while, we might as well enjoy this pleasing green tea.”

Esme jerked a little at the sound of her name. If they knew who she was, it meant the abduction had not been an administrative error. It meant they’d intended to take her in particular. That revelation escalated her anxiety and also begged the question… why?

“I don’t care for tea, green or otherwise. I want to know who you are, where this is, and why I’ve been forcibly removed from my choice of location.”

“Ah. Yes. You were at a party. Isn’t that what such gatherings with no purpose are called?”

If she was at home in Hallow Hill, she would’ve said, “ Who needs to ask about the definition of ‘party’? Three-year-olds are well-acquainted with the concept.” But Esme thought better of saying so.

Scarlet sat and gave a gesture of invitation for her to sit on one of a pair of facing settees that hadn’t been there a moment earlier.

Between the two silk-covered couches was a knee-high table.

It displayed a carefully arranged, mouth-watering tea setting complete with colorful, whimsical pastries, fruit-flavored creams, and trimmed sandwich triangles on three-tiered carousels.

It might’ve been the subject of a Southern Living magazine cover.

Since it was clear she wasn’t going home immediately, Esme couldn’t think of a reasonable objection to sitting, other than that there was no wall to her back. She sat and stared at Scarlet defiantly.

Scarlet was what some would call a cool cookie.

Her Mona Lisa expression had not changed at all except for the tiniest hint of a true smile.

She sat across from Esme and lowered her hood to reveal that she also had a shaved head.

Rather than detract from her beauty, the lack of hair might’ve enhanced it.

She had striking gray eyes framed by long, thick black lashes.

Real. Not fake. But her age was an enigma.

Her skin and features projected youth. Her expression and carriage suggested age.

After pouring tea, first for Esme, next for herself, Scarlet said, “Let’s begin with the easiest of your questions. We’re Cardinals. My name is Araxinthe. Where we are is a little more complicated.”

“That’s okay because I don’t really care what you are, who you are, or where we are. I could slap myself for bothering to ask. Send me home. Please.”

Araxinthe’s voice was smooth and extraordinarily pleasant. Esme couldn’t place the accent, but it was somehow familiar. Consonants were softened. Vowels extended. Her words coated Esme’s anxiety with calm, like drops of slow summer rain landing on warm skin and sliding away.

“I suspect that to some you’re quite entertaining.”

“Not what I’m known for.”

“What are you known for?”

“I’m not interested in supplying information for my dossier. I’m interested in getting out of here.”

“As I said, we’re Cardinals.”

“I’m sure that’s nice for you. As I said, I don’t care.”

Araxinthe continued as if Esme hadn’t spoken. “That means nothing to you? We’re the monitors of physical conventions. We make sure the planet’s rate of spin remains stable. We supervise such things as direction, gravity, time, and perhaps most importantly… fate.”

Esme looked around, feeling momentarily intrigued. The answer to her question about the identity of her captors sparked an interest in hearing further details, but she resisted curiosity and continued to press her case.

“Let’s skip straight to the ‘why’?”

“Very well.” Araxinthe kept her spine straight in a way that looked uncomfortable. “Allow me to explain by telling a story. Bear with me and I’ll refrain from tedium when possible.”

As Araxinthe began her tale, Esme felt her eyelids closing, like the first stage of sedation.

“Wait,” she said. “I don’t want to…” She didn’t complete the sentence or the thought before she was sound asleep.

But she found herself in a state that was more altered reality than dreamscape.

She could still hear Araxinthe clearly, but saw the story play out visually, almost as if she were an observer at the scene.

“This is a story about you, but mostly about your mother. She was one of us. A daughter of destiny. One of the essential weavers of fate. A keeper of time. A supervisor of physics and what some call scientific principles. We’re tasked with maintaining the operations of governing rules, but we can make exceptions when necessary or grant the ability to make exceptions.

That is a principle all its own, which humans call magic.

“Your mother’s true name was Vaxingthe. Though one of many, she is missed. Her absence created a void that disturbed the delicate balance of… everything.