1: Enter Sandman Katie awoke with a scream on her lips. She saw nothing, she heard nothing. There was only the sick agony of iron poisoning coursing through her. Every inch of her body was fme; her veins and arteries were full of va instead of cool, refreshing blood like they should be. In the moment between when she slept and when she woke, she understood she would die.

  If she had to narrow it down, the pain must come from her left arm. It radiated up with every pulse of her heart. Maybe someone merciful had left her a hacksaw so she could free herself from whatever trap this was. She pried open her eyes, one at a time, and turned her head toward it. Bleary and red-edged as her vision was, she could make out her arm, fist clenched, ft iron band encircling her wrist. The uncoated bck metal ate through the flesh of her arm like acid, leaving a bck ring around the ripped skin and a cauterized red circle below that. Brown sludge pooled onto the pristine white coverlet under it.

  Who could have done–? She could almost remember something, but what? She remembered her name. That was good. Last time she woke up this disoriented, she’d lost her name. This bracelet. It meant something. It wasn’t just for pain. She’d seen something like this before. Beri had worn one to his execution.

  Magic suppression, her memory whispered. This is a magus cuff.

  Katie only had one spell, and that was useful for nothing but tearing holes in the aether. She could travel from one world to the other, Earth to Faerie, Faerie to Earth. Why would anybody bother to cuff her? She couldn’t hurt them with her magic. It wasn’t like she could open up holes in somebody’s brain.

  Although now that she thought about it, that might just be worth a goddamn try if she got her hands (hand) on the person who did this. Groaning, helpless tears running down her face, Katie curled into a ball with her left arm as far from her heart as possible. Eventually, the cuff would eat through the bone. If her hand fell off she could get herself free. That would not happen if it burned into her chest cavity.

  These motherfuckers, whoever they were, should have cuffed her right wrist, too. She only needed one hand to wield a sword. She’d get a hook and take up piracy ter. First came revenge.

  Wrong. First came survival. Her stomach heaved and she fought down nausea, but only because she wasn’t sure she could move enough not to throw up in her own hair.

  Beri, she thought, oh, please, where are you? He was pretty, but he was shit at telepathy. He did not appear to save her even though it was his turn for some heroics.

  Katie MacGregor, Princess of Summer, High King’s Bde, Knight of the Royal Guard and Lady of the Veils, curled into the fetal position to weep.

  She didn’t open her eyes when she heard a whooshing noise. A group of people in bck jumpsuits and stupid pointy hats walked in a clump toward her. There were men wearing high-and-tight haircuts, and there were women with shiny bck chignons caught at the bases of their skulls. She remembered all at once: the punk club. Kissing Beri in an alley. A strange Way, white instead of bck. Immortals who could wield Cold Iron.

  Why would anybody ever call this ‘Cold Iron?’ Was it supposed to be some kind of joke? Did the name come from one of those dog phoukas, the type that couldn’t tell the truth?

  Somebody hissed, “Get up, bitch. Time to go.”

  Katie cleared sick out of her throat. She would not be pushed around by these kidnapping bastards, even now. “Oho. We have a badass on deck.”

  Hard hands csped her shoulders and yanked her upright. An even harder palm struck her cheek. She saw stars.

  “Idiot!” It was a different voice from the first. Even as Katie managed to lift her head and blink fog out of her eyes, the second voice continued. “If you mark her, the other guests will see it and compin to Commander Frixm! How will you expin yourself?”

  “Frixm wants to hurt her as badly as I do,” the first voice snapped. “You all do. We’ll cover it with cosmetics. Calm down.”

  Katie tasted blood. She wasn’t sure if she’d bitten her tongue or if the sp had burst her lip, but she spit out hot fluid as hard as she could, hoping it hit one of her attackers. When a woman cried out with anger and disgust, joy as hot as the pain filled Katie’s chest.

  If she made them kill her, the iron would no longer hurt.

  “Stop!” A voice cried out. “Both of you, stop it! She’s trying to force you into something regrettable; don’t you see that? Move aside.”

  Though the hands released her, Katie managed to stay upright. More hands grasped her shoulders, this time further up, where he might hold somebody if he wanted their attention and cked boundaries. She blinked until a face swam into view: a man, ft faced, with too shallow a nose and rge nostrils. He shook her until her teeth clicked.

  “See here, Princess Katherine,” he snapped. “Everyone on this ship wants you dead, do you understand? I’m not better. I’m just more obedient. If you don’t stop this and sit still while we prepare you for the cocktail party, an accident will happen to you.”

  “I’m not fucking scared of you.” Blood dripped down Katie’s chin and clotted her mouth with the taste of copper. “You don’t even have medals. You’re not soldiers. You’re nobody.”

  Silence from the group. Then a woman’s voice: “We know where your man is. The one your people call the High King? We can go back to him, if you like. We know what he can do now and can resist his magics. We can take him away from your homend in a twinkling.”

  Something in Katie’s sick, exhausted heart wailed. She wanted Beri here with her so, so much. But if they did this to him because of her behavior–

  Quietly, she asked, “What do you want me to do?”