We handed the crystals over to Mage Móinárne, who promised that more of her colleagues were on the way. Afterwards, we retired for the night in the farmhouse. The upstairs bedrooms were little more than large closets with thin blankets drawn across rudimentary doorways. It appeared that the elves had taken larger rooms and partitioned them off to give each member some semblance of privacy. Well, that was laughable, considering the conditions they subjected the humans to.

Leihalani, Rachael, Mage Móinárne and I all chose rooms that were right next to each other. Although, in this case, I would have preferred a dormitory-style sleeping arrangement. I lay stiffly on a thin pallet generously treated with a sanitizing spell and stared up at the ceiling, too creeped out to even draw the covers up to my chin. After everything that happened tonight, you would think that I would fall asleep immediately. That was not even remotely the case.

To think that some twisted individual had lain here the night before, ready and willing to do dark magic in order to drain the abilities out of witches and shapeshifters. I shuddered. I might as well be sleeping in Hitler's bed, for all the bad vibes I was receiving.

But some time between the dead of night and the ass-crack of dawn, I managed to catch a few minutes of sleep. More troops had arrived to the farmhouse while Rachael and I were out searching for kidnap victims and explosive crystals. I could see the massive tents from the window of the kitchen the next morning and noticed an increase in activity. The doomsday cult elves had a well-stocked pantry and I felt no guilt whatsoever eating from their stores. Kesio had not returned after storming out, nor did he join us for breakfast.

When I asked Leihalani about it, the Summer princess merely shrugged. "That's my brother—the petulant child." She sighed, absently sawing at a fried egg with her knife. "Oh, he is a charmer most of the time, as you've undoubtedly noticed, but once you start pointing out his flaws—especially around other people—he storms out."

"Will he be coming back?"

"He should. Our mother was quite adamant that he take control of the situation."

Their mother—the queen. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that these two were siblings. Leihalani had never been anything but straightforward and candid with us, whereas her brother possessed a mercurial temperament.

Oh, well. Chances were that I would never see any of these people ever again.

After breakfast, Leihalani, Rachael and I left Mage Móinárne to her task of unraveling the crystals and went to see how the humans were fairing. We found the errant crown prince seated with General Whitesword beneath a canvas canopy, hunched over a slim ledger. Two Tsolas stood nearby, their expressions neutral but eyes alert.

"Ladies." Kesio looked up and greeted us with a smile. I ignored the charm.

A young boy in white and green livery hustled up to the table and presented the prince and general with several sheets of paper. He turned and darted back the way he'd come.

Rachael and I hung back while Leihalani leaned over her brother's shoulder. "What are these?" she asked, picking up a sheet of paper.

"Testimonies, Your Royal Highness," the general explained, gently reaching for the sheet and putting it back on the table. Leihalani raised a feathery brow at the general's audacity.

"What do they say?" Rachael asked. She leaned forward, angling to get a good look at the documents.

General Whitesword deliberately laid a large hand on top of the pile of papers, obscuring the writing on them.

"Do you understand the word 'classified'?" the older man asked sardonically, raising an eyebrow.

Rachael frowned. "I can't read whatever those scribbles are, anyway," she replied testily. "I just want to know what happened to them."

"Little miss," the general growled, forgoing any semblance of respect, "I heartily suggest that you keep your nose out of matters that do not concern you. You are lucky that you have approval from the Crown to remain here at all."

"Whatever. Just remember who found your little crystal bombs, okay? Oh, right—that's me!"

Oh, boy. Rachael just went full teenager on the man. General Whitesword turned to me. "Can you not rein in your sister?"

"Cousin," I corrected breezily. "And have you ever tried to tell a teenager what to do?"

And that was when a very highly respected elven military man smacked himself in the forehead with his palm.

"I think you broke him," Rachael whispered gleefully.

"Now, ladies," Leihalani warned, but the corner of her mouth twitched amusedly.

"Fine," I said. "We apologize for our attitudes. Could you at least tell us if any of those testimonies are from Jimmy Grabowski?"

The general's free hand gripped the table. "Surely, you can answer that, General," Leihalani inquired sweetly.

"No," he told us, under heavy duress, "we have yet to come across your boy."

Clearly, we were going to drive him to drink. Rachael groaned and dug her heel in the grass. God, at this rate, we'd be here for days while we waited for Jimmy's exact report to come across the general's desk. "Might we have your permission to search the camp ourselves?" I asked, doing my best to put on what I hoped was a winning smile.

General Whitesword massaged his temples with two fingers. He looked at Leihalani and Kesio for approval; Kesio merely shrugged, too preoccupied with the papers, but Leihalani nodded. "Blessed Onye, go ahead," he swore, exasperated. "But I want someone with you at all times." He snapped his fingers and an attaché ran up.

"General?"

"Gedhe, find someone to escort our Crown guests through the camp. They are here to find a boy taken from their city a few weeks ago. Inform the soldier that he is not to allow them to interfere with any debriefing."

The attaché nodded. "Aye, General."

He turned and swiftly walked away. I stared after him, then down at the general. That was ... surprisingly easy, all things considered. "Thank you, General."

Folding scarred hands atop the mass of paperwork, General Whitesword tipped his chin up. "Now stop bothering me." He picked up a sheet of paper, a clear-cut dismissal. "Onye save me from more humans," he muttered loudly.

Repressing the urge to stick my tongue out at him, I instead turned my back to the general and left the tent's immediate vicinity. Rachael trailed after me.

"He should be kissing our asses," she griped, tossing a look over her shoulder. "We single-handedly uncovered a huge kidnapping ring for him."

"We probably made him feel inferior," I told her. "Men like him don't like being upstaged."

"Like Kesio?" Rachael remarked, raising her eyebrows.

I rolled my eyes. "Exactly."

"I wonder if they'll give us a reward," my cousin mused.

That got me chuckling. "I wouldn't count on it," I said, looping an arm around her shoulder. "And don't ask," I added, tapping her on the shoulder for emphasis.

Rachael's answering eye-roll was most impressive.

A bronzed-skinned, green-haired soldier named Rondil was selected to see Rachael and I around the camp. Unlike the Tsolas or General Whitesword, he was energetic and talkative. He also seemed to be quite interested in Rachael, which meant I had to keep a close eye on them both. The elves didn't seem to age as humans do, so Rondil could either be eighteen or forty for all that I knew.

There were three little encampments set up on the farm. The first one held the adults. Most of them sat in a close circle on large cushions beneath a wide pavilion, knees touching each other. Elven soldiers in their enameled armor stood nearby, keeping guard without standing too on top of them. Off to one side was a large tent with an open flap. Peering inside as we walked by, I saw a double line of cots and trays of barely-touched meals. Within the tent sat one human and one elven soldier, who appeared to be asking the woman questions.

"Are they being very cooperative?" I asked Rondil. "Or is that classified information?"

The soldier flashed me a cheeky grin. "No, my lady, I can answer that one for you." His expression clouded briefly. "You saw that woman back there?" I nodded. "She's been there for two hours; hasn't said a thing."

"But all those papers we saw the general with," Rachael said, confusion flickering across her face. "Where'd they come from?"

"The children were more forthcoming, my lady," he told her.

"You'd think they'd want to talk," Rachael said to me. "Wouldn't you after something like this?"

I saw the look in Rondil's face. It was pity for Rachael, pity for her innocence and naiveté. I really didn't want to be the one to break it to her. "Sometimes, people who go through such intense trauma just can't talk about it," I told her. "It can take years—decades, even—of therapy to come to terms with what they went through. If that happens at all."

Realization dawned in my cousin's face. "Oh. So they might not get better."

"Probably not."

Her expression darkened. "What are you going to do with the people who took them?"

It was Rondil's turn to be thoughtful. "They will probably be executed. Not for the kidnapping, but for the plot to blow up the Gates."

"All of them?"

"I cannot say."

Rachael's brows knit together as she pondered what the soldier said. Having seen just how exactly the Summer elves kept their prisons, I shuddered to think of how they carried out executions.

Rondil took us past the second encampment, which held all of the teenagers. Unlike the adult pavilion, the teenagers appeared far more animated. There were a few exceptions, of course; I saw a girl hunched over in a corner, arms wrapped around her knees while another girl offered comfort.

The last section was set up near an ancient stone wall. Upon approach, we walked right into a confrontation between Tsaebach Caimaris and several heavily-armored soldiers, all on horseback. The tsaebach had brought several members of his own house guard with him, as well as a slender bronze-skinned young woman in worn riding attire.

" ... tie this up in court for decades!" Tsaebach Caimaris was shouting. "The Queen is not above the law!"

Rondil placed a hand in the middle of both of our backs. "Wait right here," he murmured in our ears. Without another word, he strolled between us, right up to one of the soldiers standing in the back. The man leaned down from his saddle and said something to Rondil. Our guide nodded and promptly returned to us.

"He's still at it, isn't he?" I asked, noting how the tsaebach's coloring was growing darker by the second. I wondered if elves could give themselves strokes.

"Unfortunately," Rondil allowed.

"We don't have to go back, do we?" Rachael asked, throwing a suspicious glance in the tsaebach's direction.

Rondil shook his head. "No, they've already alerted the general to his presence. But we should move quickly."

I glanced back at the tsaebach and asked dryly,  "Because if the tsaebach sees me, he'll call me the prince's whore?"

"Er—what?"

Laughing lightly under my breath, I shook my head. "Never mind. Let's keep going."

In the children's pavilion, I spotted female soldiers for the first time. They were every bit as armored as the men, but some had removed bits and pieces to get closer to the kids. A couple of them sat on the grass with the kids, entertaining them with earth magic tricks.

"May we get closer?" I asked Rondil.

"Certainly. But remember, we cannot interfere if there is a debriefing in process."

"Right," I agreed with a sharp nod.

With Rondil leading the way, we approached the children's camp.

Rachael and I scanned the sea of white-haired heads. By this time, my recollection of what Jimmy looked like had generally faded into the recesses of my mind. All we had to go on was the whiffle ball with his scent on it, and that was stowed away in Rachael's backpack. For some reason, I highly doubted that General Whitesword would allow us a second trip back here.

One of the kids happened to turn around and spy us. "It's the shapeshifters!" she cried out. From there, pandemonium erupted. The soldiers desperately tried to wrangle the kids back into the pavilion, but they were left standing with their arms open, mouths agape.

"I saw you in your underwear," a boy announced, pointing at me. "It was black."

Rondil raised an eyebrow, causing me to blush.

"Jimmy?" Rachael called out, standing up on her tip-toes. "Jimmy Grabowski?"

The kids paused and their excited voices lowered to a series of hushed conversations between themselves.

"Jimmy?"

"Who's Jimmy?"

"They're not here for us?"

I stared across a sea of hurt expressions, trembling lips and jaded glares. "No, no, we're going to take you all home ..." I tried to reassure them, peering over their heads as I searched.

A small boy's hand tentatively lifted in the back of the pack. "I—I'm Jimmy." His voice was shaky and the eyes that stared at us were wide and haunted. A white streak of hair, about two inches wide, slashed across the top of his sandy blond head. "Are you going to take me home?"

My mouth popped open and I waded through the cluster of children towards him. "Jimmy Grabowski?" I breathed, looking down at the boy.

"Yes."