Sterling stopped a few paces outside the door on a little stone platform to take in her surroundings. Every way she looked was covered with golden sand.

Dunes stretched off into the distance as far as her eyes could see, taking on a wavy appearance as the heat rose off the grains. That delicious heat now warmed her skin—something Sterling had craved to feel for so long.

She closed her eyes and turned her face into the sun’s rays. For just that moment, she allowed herself to forget. Forget she had been kidnapped and was far from anyone she knew. Forget she had been handed over to mysterious people shrouded in dark robes who had mistaken her for a princess. Forget the aches in her body, the bruises, her broken nose, her hunger.

Forget everything.

A touch on her shoulder shattered the moment. Sterling opened her eyes and saw one of the figures had come up behind her, their face still hidden within the shadows of their robe. No matter how hard she stared, she still couldn’t make out a face in the darkness. Her gaze moved over the figure’s shoulder to the door she had come through—or rather, where it had been.

It was gone.

There was no trace there had ever been a door. There was only more golden sand stretching off into the horizon. The only thing left was the stone platform she and the others were standing on in the middle of a sandy ocean. Even the third robed figure, the one she had thought of as their leader, was missing.

“Where am I?” Sterling murmured to herself. She didn’t expect an answer, but to her surprise, the figure closest to her lowered his hood.

Sterling was startled to find herself looking into the dark eyes of a young man. He couldn’t have been much older than Seraiah.

“Hello, Princess,” he drawled as she stared at him.

“My name is not Princess,” she snapped back before she could stop herself.

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to be lashing out at her kidnappers, she thought belatedly. They were the only ones who had information about what was going on.

She’d never been good at keeping her mouth shut.

Instead of the anger Sterling would have expected from her previous keepers, he just smirked. “My mistake. What would you prefer I call you?”

Sterling kept her mouth shut, holding his gaze. A bead of sweat slid down her skin beneath her heavy wool dress. The heat no longer felt so pleasant as the sun’s rays beat down on their heads.

There was a moment of silence as they stared each other down.

“Very well,” he finally said, glancing at the other robed figure before returning his gaze to her. “Princess, it is then—or should I say Queen, since I suppose that is technically what you are.” There was that little smirk again.

She continued holding his stare as her thoughts swirled. Now I’m promoted to a queen? What next?

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He either didn’t notice her expression or didn’t care as he continued speaking. “I rather like Princess myself. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Again, Sterling stayed silent, wishing she could wipe that smirk off his face. She had barely met him, but already his smugness was grating on her. The other figure, Mr. Moneybags, turned away, putting his back to them, apparently uninterested in their conversation.

“Now that we have that settled, I think we can get rid of these,” the young man said, reaching a gloved hand toward her.

On instinct, she took a step back—right off the edge of the platform and sank into the sand.

“Fine,” he said, dropping his hand back to his side, not moving from where he stood, “if you like those bracelets so much, I suppose you can keep them.”

It took Sterling a moment to realize he was referring to the manacles on her wrists. Quickly, she held up her wrists to him. She wouldn’t say no to having them removed.

He chuckled and stepped towards her again. “That’s what I thought. Not exactly the height of fashion, are they?”

She didn’t bother to answer him. “What happened to your leader?” she asked instead.

“He had obligations elsewhere,” he said shortly. He called Mr. Moneybags over to join them. “You will want to hold still for this,” he told her.

Mr. Moneybags reached out, placing his hands over the metal encircling her wrists, and mumbled something under his breath. As she watched, the metal melted beneath his hands and slid from her wrists to hit the sand with a hiss.

Sterling stared down at the molten manacles in astonishment. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she would have said it was impossible. Those shackles should have needed a key or a blacksmith to remove them, but he had done nothing more than rest his hands atop them. His work accomplished, Mr. Moneybags stepped back, moving away from her and the young man again.

“Magic,” the young man said, wiggling his gloved fingers. “Unfortunately, you will have to wait to get that,” he indicated her nose, “fixed. Healing isn’t my . . . specialty.”

“Who are you?” Sterling breathed. Besides crazy, she thought. Magic? He had to be joking. But she couldn’t deny that what she had witnessed defied any reasonable explanation.

He grinned as if he could read her thoughts. “I think what you meant to ask is ‘what are you?’. And the answer to that is mage.” He held out his hand to her. “Name’s Arren, but you can call me Ren.”

She stared at his proffered hand. No way was she going to take it after what she had seen the other one do to those manacles. Sterling turned over the word mage in her mind. It sounded vaguely familiar to her, but she couldn’t quite place her finger on why.

“Right,” Ren said slowly, dropping his hand back to his side. “Well, then.”

“My name is Sterling,” she said begrudgingly.

His eyes flicked to her dirty silver hair. “I can see why. Someone was feeling creative when they gave you that name.”

She snarled at him, balling her hands into fists at her side. She had half a mind to punch him in his arrogant face. The only thing stopping her was the fear of what he could do to her.

“Relax, I meant no offense, Silver.” His expression said otherwise.

Before Sterling could respond, Mr. Moneybags cleared his throat.

“We should be going. We have quite a walk ahead of us,” Ren said.

Mr. Moneybags walked away from them, his robes skimming over the top of the sand. He seemed to float above it rather than sinking into it like she had.

“After you,” Ren said, waving his hand with a flourish and a small bow.

Sterling had no choice but to follow Mr. Moneybags wherever he was leading them.

It didn’t take long for the heat to wear on her. Her winter dress had become suffocating and was soaked with sweat, but the other two seemed to have no trouble in their dark robes. It had been gods knew how long since the last time she had eaten, and the small cup of water back in her cell hadn’t been nearly enough.

Little spots swarmed before Sterling’s eyes as waves of dizziness overtook her. Try as she might to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, she couldn’t do it anymore.

She stumbled and fell, sprawling on the sand as more little spots crowded her vision. Her skin felt like it was on fire. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the spots.

It didn’t work.

Someone spoke, and it sounded as if they were speaking through water. The words were so garbled she couldn’t understand.

The spots coalesced—completing the darkness, and Sterling knew no more.