What is the difference between a guest and a prisoner? Often less than you would prefer.

  -Retired traveler, guest lecturer

  I wake in the morning, feeling hungover from overindulgence in sleep. My limbs feel heavy, but I needed the rest. As I look up at the sun cresting the tops of the trees, I realize that my team didn’t wake me to take watch. I would feel offended that the group didn’t trust me, but, in a way, I did take watch. Morgana watched over us through the entire night.

  One of the only perks of being undead was that she never needed to sleep or rest. Not that I was going to tell them not to worry, because the undead I drag around is actually sentient and watches them when they sleep.

  I take a deep breath and then smile as I eagerly open my notifications.

  Congratulations, you have gained enough experience to level. You may level up or choose to forgo the benefits of the level up to acquire a class.

  I blink as I mentally select ‘acquire a class’, eager to see what my choices are.

  The list went on to describe a myriad of other classes from magical hybrids like shadow blade to more mundane ones like survivalist, which, it turns out, specialized in maximizing the survival skill. What interests me most are the initiate mage classes. When I focus on each, I see they will give me a +5% to the affinity associated with the class, boost the affinity passives, and give an increase in stats for future levels. Water initiate mage gives an additional point in constitution, darkness gives wisdom, and Mind gives intelligence. The dual affinity classes give a stat gain equal to the elements they are derived from.

  A lot of numbers and stats, but the choice is a no-brainer: blood. Initiate Blood Mage gives enhanced resistance to poison, bleeding, or disease, another increase in health regeneration, additional stat increases, and an increase in affinity percentage. I select ‘Initiate Blood Mage’. My level is now eleven, and in parentheses is initiate blood mage level 1. Then the other notifications flood in.

  I flick through the next dozen notifications that give me level-up notifications to my mind, water, darkness, and blood magic skills.

  Now I need to figure out where to put twenty stat points… I’m simultaneously excited for the boost in power and terrified of what will happen. If I put all my points in intelligence, I will almost double it. What would that mean? I want to play it safe and not only spread the stats but apply them slowly over the next hour. It would be a shame if my head exploded because I increased my intelligence by twenty-four points all at once.

  With my messages dealt with, I grin, enjoying the stat increases and skill upgrades. There is just something about seeing the numbers climb that motivates me.

  We set a grueling pace, walking through the day and the night. I try to practice some magic, but soon I need to focus on using my healing magic on the horse to mitigate as much of the animal’s strain as I can. The horses were already old when we bought them, and we have been asking a lot of them. As I use my magic, I survey the forest, seeing the vines interspersed between the trees and wondering if I’m walking into a trap.

  There is none of the same joviality in this trip as we had when we were leaving the battle at the coast, victorious. I can’t help but feel like we lost. We lost Lucian, we had to flee the mayor, and we even lost the wagon to lose our pursuers. All our energy is devoted to the next step, the next guard shift, or the next chore, so we can travel faster.

  A few ambitious predators try to attack us. Night crawlers, six-legged raccoons the size of dogs. Tree Ambushers, lizards with spikes that like to ambush their prey by falling from trees. Even a few burrow mites attack us, small insects the size of gophers but with spikes like porcupines and a face full of sharp fangs. Creatures that would seem like nightmares in my past world, but here, all it takes is a light application of magic from Olivia or me to fend them off.

  On the second night, while on night watch, I see a twinkling in the distance.

  ‘Did you see that?’ I ask Morgana. Everyone else is sound asleep in their bedrolls, a recent sign of trust the group had extended to me, much to Benjamin’s protest.

  ‘There was a glimmer… there!’

  Morgana squints, ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Stay here and guard the camp, I’m going to get a closer look.’ Morgana conveys her discontent over the bond. She thought, ‘Why would I care if these people were eaten?’

  ‘Relax, my night vision is just as good as yours. I’m just going to take a look.’

  ‘Your stealth is awful; you should let me go.’ She’s right; her skill at sneaking had progressed rapidly since we left the town, far outstripping my meager stealth skill level. She had been training it often by following Kurt without him knowing, and even getting the better of Benjamin on occasion. After sneaking up on the jumpy knight two times, I commanded her to stop stalking Benjamin. He was already jumpy enough without Morgana antagonizing him, and everyone was getting irate with me since they attributed her actions to my commands.

  She might be better than me with the stealth skill, but my spells more than make up the difference. I cast them over myself. ‘I’ll be right back.’

  I slip away from the camp, disappearing into the woods. As I approach, I see a web of vines gently glowing, radiating toward a tree. Careful not to get too near the vines, I take slow, careful steps. One of the things I learned as an EMT is to always be aware of escape routes. When you venture into dangerous areas, you need a quick escape.

  The leaves on the vines have a mesmeric rhythm to their glow that is hypnotic. I watch the pattern for a time, wondering what the vines are doing. I reach out with my empathy, feeling a host of nocturnal creatures, but nothing that feels like a predator about to pounce.

  A melodic, feminine voice cuts through the night, “I know you are there.”

  I see a woman in green standing beside the tree. I freeze, thinking it’s the woman from my dreams, but on a closer inspection, I see she has light green skin, the shade of live wood, and is covered in a dress of dark green vines and verdant leaves, not the silky toga from my dream. I take more comfort in the knowledge she isn’t from my dreams than I should. I'm still trying not to breathe as I watch her, waiting for her to spring the trap.

  “It’s not like it’s a secret you are here; I see your camp over there.”

  “What are you, anyways?”

  “Me? You can call me Melony, it’s much easier to say than Melancholia, though I doubt you will need to worry about that. I’m a dryad of the forest. Now stop being silly and reveal yourself. If I really wanted to, I could just take care of your friends.”

  I drop from stealth, “If it’s a fight you want, let's go.”

  “Wait.” The feminine figure raises an arm. “I don’t want to fight.”

  “It sounded like you did a moment ago.”

  All around me, I start to see little white buds appear on the trees. They blossom as a crimson color bleeds into the petals, staining them a dark red.

  “Putting your friends to sleep wouldn’t hurt them. I was tasked with keeping you here for my mistress.”

  “Oh yeah, when is she coming back?” I get the feeling I don’t want to be here when she gets back.

  She shrugs, “When she has time. Maybe in a few days or a few years.”

  The petals on the flowers crack and blacken, dripping a dark ichor that releases a stale musty smell with an underlying current of sour all around me. My body grows heavy as the toxin makes my limbs lethargic. Only my insane resistance from my blood affinity keeps me on my feet.

  “I don’t think I’m going to wait that long.” I move to run away, only for vines to block my path. I pull out my sword and start chopping.

  I hear her voice coming closer to me, “Stop, there’s no need to fight. I will keep you nice and safe. Nothing will harm you. All you need to do is put down your sword.”

  Despite my resistance, my eyes start to grow heavy. I summon water, form it into ice blades, and cut a hole in the vines. As I run, the vines slither after me. I hear the dryad’s angry shrieks as the red flowers erupt across the trees around the clearing, where we made camp. It looks like fire has spread throughout the forest. The red dies out just as fast as it came. The flowers blacken and seep into the night, invisible against the shadows of the forest. I curse as I cross the last hundred feet to reach Morgana and the camp.

  I reach out through my bond, ‘Morgana, we need to grab everything now. Get our stuff packed and everyone moving.’

  I arrive at the camp at a dead sprint. Fortunately, we had most of our stuff packed in case the mayor’s men stumbled across us. By the time I arrive, Morgana has the packs on the horses, but Olivia, Kurt, and Benjamin are still out. I drop to the ground and try to shake Kurt awake. He groans but doesn’t rouse from his sleep.

  “Throw them over the horses. We need to hurry before the horses go down.”

  With my friends draped over the horses, I hear the vines rustling through the grass. I grab one set of reins as Morgana grabs the other. We pull them along as we make a mad dash, or would if the horses would move faster. They snort and drag their feet as we pull them along.

  Behind me, I hear a lilting melodic voice, “just give in and rest. I promise nothing bad will happen. My mistress told me of the pain and suffering you have endured. You deserve to rest your head for a while without having to worry about the world and all its cruelty.”

  I grunt in anger as one of the horses refuses to move any further. Too tired to sleep standing up, it moves to the ground as its head droops. I grab Kurt and the bags before bolting to catch up to Morgana. As I’m running, I see a carpet of green leaves and stems blanket the horse, never to be seen again.

  I won’t be able to go for long, but my increased stats hold out long enough for me to give Kurt over to Morgana. The flowers begin to slow and ebb as we gain more distance from Melony. That doesn’t erase the miles of forest pumping the sleep toxin in the air, and soon the second horse goes down. Morgana grabs the backpacks while I grab Olivia and Benjamin.

  The next hour is grueling as my muscles grow tired and I take deep, heaving breaths to keep going. Each gulp of air pumps fresh toxin that tempts me with the sweet bliss of sleep. In the end, I fall over, crawling as my body becomes overwhelmed by the weight of my malaise.

  You could just let go. A voice comes unbidden to my mind. I try to shake it away, blindly crawling forward as my vision dims. Melony is far behind me, and we are too far away for her roots to chase us. I could lie down right here. Morgana would protect me, and if dryads are like those from the legends I knew, she would be bound to her tree. She couldn’t hurt me. There was no danger.

  I could just… let… go…

  I wake, swaying back and forth as I hear something being dragged. The morning sun warms my face, and I realize Morgana carried me through the night.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘You were crawling on the ground and looked like you were about to fall asleep. I picked you up and carried you forward.’

  I look behind to see Morgana dragging Olivia, Kurt, and Benjamin on their bedrolls.

  ‘Thank you, I think we can stop now.’

  I drink some water and sit as my body teeters on the edge of sleep. I can feel my affinity working overdrive to remove the toxin, but it will be a while before it's gone. The march forward blends into a haze, focusing on the next step forward and dragging my teammates to safety. When the sun sets, I start a fire and fall asleep, relying on Morgana to keep me safe.

  The next morning, Kurt, Benjamin, and Olivia are still asleep. Their coma is a concern, but what’s more concerning to me is that they can’t sleep or eat. In a hospital, they could be hooked up to IVs. I doubt they will starve to death going a day or two without food, but water is a different story. If I try to force water down their throats, they will choke. I use my healing spell, hoping to infuse some water into them before I renew my march.

  In our mad dash, we lost almost all our supplies except for our artifacts and a few bedrolls. Fortunately, there is plenty to forage. Morgana continues dragging my teammates, shredding their bedrolls in the process. With some experimentation, I create sleds of ice, frozen to their bedrolls, to help Morgana carry my teammates. I focus on trying to keep the sleds frozen in the temperate climate. I can’t manage it, but it does help us move faster for an hour or two at a time.

  We rest again for the night, and on the next morning, I find a monster dead next to our camp with a hole in its chest. I frown, the sight troubles me, but I also know it makes Morgana stronger, more alive. I want her to be more alive, to be able to experience life in all its spectrum, and the hearts of a few monsters are a small, if gruesome, cost to pay. I guess I don’t mind if she eats hearts for breakfast, as long as she doesn’t become a maneater.

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  On the third day of the trip, we emerge from the forest onto the road. Time blurs as we trek on. I’m so lost and exhausted that I barely notice a knight approaching.

  ‘Go hide in the woods.’

  Olivia is the powerhouse, and I’m not sure if I can take a mounted knight on my own. A sneak attack from Morgana might be just what I need to tip the balance. The man approaches on horseback at a comfortable lope. He is clearly a knight, with a sword, bow, and leather armor.

  “Hey there, traveler, looks like you ran into a monster. Maybe I can take a look at their wounds…” His words trail off as he sees Olivia, Kurt, and Benjamin’s faces. His eyes turn sharp, and his back goes rigid, even as he tries to project calm.

  “Where are you headed, traveler? Maybe I can lend you a hand.”

  I pull forth water and form ice blades, “I think you know exactly where I am going. Pretend you never saw us, and I’ll let you live.”

  He puts up his hands, “Easy now. I’m from the Heartbran estate, doing a regular patrol. If the heir is in trouble, I am duty-bound to act. I can take her to the estate to be treated.”

  “-or maybe you are trying to kidnap her. You run off with her, and I never see you again.”

  “I see you are not very trusting. I could go summon other knights from the estate to help.”

  “-or you are going to grab the reinforcements waiting to ambush us.”

  “I don’t know you, but it seems clear by the direction you are headed that you mean to return her to the Heartbran estate. I do not want to harm you, but I cannot abandon my duty to the Earl and Earless. If I can’t go for help, and I can’t take Lady Olivia to the estate. What would you like me to do?”

  His emotions are a jumble; I can’t tell if he is concerned that we might slip away or if it's genuine concern for our safety.

  “We’ll tie the ice sleds to the horse to make better time. You can guide the horse from the front. Just know if you try anything, it won’t end well for you.”

  The knight nods, dismounting, and ten minutes later, we are making a quick pace down the road.

  “So are they ok?”

  “They got hit by a sleeping powder.”

  “If they got hit, how did you get away?”

  …

  “Fine, I get you want to keep your secrets. My name is Sir Oscar, and I am a Knight Scout for the Heartbran estate.” After a pause, he asks, “What has you so jumpy? Two magi should be enough to deal with most threats near the estate.”

  I pause, considering if I should stay silent, “We were sent on a quest by the mayor of Bragen, it was a trap, and we barely made it out. We’ve been expecting the mayor to send knights to try to finish the job.”

  “Sending knights against a pair of magi is a poor plan.”

  “He didn’t know there were two of us.”

  “Still a risk, but I can see how that might change things a little.”

  “How far to the estate?”

  “Two hours by horseback, but at this pace… maybe five.”

  The conversation falls into a lull of silence, and we continue our march.

  By the time we make it to the estate, I am on my last leg and about to fall asleep. The work over the past few days was not hard, but it was constant and required that I have very few breaks.

  Fortunately, it turns out Oscar is a knight of the estate. I’m so tired and focused on Oscar that I don’t realize we are surrounded by estate guards until the horses are right on top of us, and Oscar is briefing his fellow knights.

  I feel a mixture of emotions that I frankly do nothing to interpret. The complexity, the number of people, and my exhaustion force me to try to close myself off as much as I can.

  I take in a few things in my tired state. Well-manicured trees, a small stone gate for the estate, followed by a much thicker stone gate for the manor. I focus mainly on the road and keeping my drooping eyelids up. To my relief, when we pull up in front of the manor, I’m escorted to a room with the comfiest bed I've found in this world.

  I should not have let them lead me to this bed. It’s only after waking up that I see the metal bars on the windows. The two guards thankfully stay out of my room and give me some privacy.

  When I arrived in this world, I lamented that I was in the wilderness instead of society. I wanted to find my way back to people and spend my time doing quests or aiding people in need. Now I see what doing quests for people leads to. I want to go back to the wilderness where threats are more straightforward.

  I look around the room and see furniture that is nicer than anything at the inn I have stayed in.

  A painted wooden bed frame, a side drawer, a table with a jug of water, a chamber pot, seats, and a couch are all spaciously within the room. The next thing I do is reach out to Morgana and find a surprise.

  I can feel Morgana, but the connection to her raised form has been cut. Only the familiar bond allows me to communicate.

  I ask her, ‘Are you ok? Did they get you?’

  ‘I am hungry, but my undead body is intact. I followed you to the estate, but there were too many knights for me to go inside. Once you went inside, something stressed the bond. I am… weakening. The body can survive some time, but I will need you to re-establish the bond and give me more mana before I start to deteriorate.’

  ‘Deteriorate? Are you going to be ok? How long until that starts?’

  ‘Maybe four days? Hunting helps. A week if I keep hunting.’

  ‘Where are you now?’

  ‘I am inside the estate, trying to make my way closer to you. There are many plants to hide in, but the knights are very active with your return.’

  ‘They saying anything interesting?’

  ‘No, it seems they know something has happened and to be on high alert, but no one knows what.’

  I consider the severed bond between us; I had never had my connection with one of my raised undead cut against my will. I released the bond plenty of times, but never without intending to. I wonder what could’ve caused the severing. I move over to the jug of water and try to pull on the liquid inside. Strangely, it rises a few inches before I lose control, and it plops back down in the jug. Confused, I scrunch my eyebrows. I reflexively used my stream water spell, and it fell apart in seconds.

  I try two more times, with the same result. I try again, this time using raw affinity magic. I feel a thread of water rise from the jug, but as it does so, it oscillates. It looks like one of those videos where people put sand on a surface. The sand will take different shapes as sound moves through it. Here, instead of a shape, it turns into an oscillating wave as the mana is being pulled back and forth rapidly. There is some kind of mana disruption going on.

  With practice, I’m able to get the hang of using unaligned mana despite the disruption. I cycle through my affinities, getting a hang of using shadow, water, and even start working on my mind when I hear a ping.

  The change is immediate. It’s like walking in water up to my chest against the tide, but now the water is only at my mid-section. I ponder for a moment how strong the spell disruption had to be for 1% to have a noticeable difference. I continue practicing until I accidentally knock over a clay cup, which shatters on the ground.

  I hear heavy metal footsteps before the door to my room creaks open. “I was told you are ‘the Wilder’ and I am to inform you that a mana disruption field is active on the estate, so do not think to try anything.”

  The dry tone belongs to a guard who’s standing in my doorway. He stands glaring at me, and beneath his stoic demeanor, my empathy tells me he’s actively suspicious of me. Not like the suspicion you might have when you meet someone for the first time, like I had committed a crime.

  I never put too much thought into how I would be treated when I brought Olivia back, but this treatment is far from what I would have guessed. On the scale of prisoner to guest, I am closer to a prisoner in his book. Through my mental probing, I can feel his mind is rigid, caring about following his orders, and the safety of the estate. That I exist is an unnecessary complication to his orders that he wished he didn’t have to deal with.

  It is also strange that my empathy works so well when my magic is so restrained. There is a bit of static, but it’s only noticeable because I know to look for it. Are passives somehow a kind of property instead of mana being channeled? Whatever the answer, it will have to wait-

  It’s a natural phenomenon of having mana affinity. It is not channeled but a natural side effect of the mana blending into my aura. It can’t be disrupted unless my aura is disrupted, and that will take an amount of mana that isn’t feasible.

  The answer pops into my head like it has always been there. I know it’s a side effect of the stolen memories still rattling around in my head. I can’t remember where that knowledge came from, but I know it’s true. I guess there are some benefits to having a head full of a tortured man’s knowledge. The guard’s growing impatience snaps me out of my introspection.

  I look over and see he’s holding a set of clothes in his hands. From his look, he continued speaking when I spaced out, and was waiting for an answer. He clears his throat and, in a slightly louder tone, speaks as he extends the clothes out to me, “The lady Heartbran has instructed me to give you these clothes to wear for your audience.”

  I look down at what I am wearing. The leather armor is full of holes and burn marks. While showing the battle scars could have a certain statement, I’m happy to have some clothes that aren’t about to fall apart. As I reach out to grab them, pulling them out of reach, “-after you take a bath.”

  Not willing to leave my new artifacts, I grab my staff and leave the room. I follow him as he motions for me to follow him to the bathing room.

  I will admit that some small part of me fantasizes about taking a bath in a fantasy land. Being greeted by an army of gorgeous maids to attend to me and ready me for my audience, I would be satisfied with just one.

  I had clearly read too many trashy novels. I’m disappointed to realize that not only were there no maids, but the butler and the guard plan to stay in the room, the entire time. They do have some decorum, standing at attention and facing away while keeping me in their peripheral vision, but I can’t help but feel irritated by their presence. After risking my life so many times, surely, I deserved an awkward fantasy encounter where maids eagerly wash me by hand. Sigh, I will have to bring up this injustice in my audience.

  There is one boon, however. On a wooden plate with a stack of linens is the first bar of soap I’ve seen on this planet. I grab the bar, shimmy out of my tattered armor, and jump into the warm water. It feels AMAZING.

  Weeks of surviving, pushing my body to its limit, and straining, all begin melting in the water. I know the soap is lightly scented, but I luxuriate in the feeling and scent of being clean. The guard coughs a few times to get me to hurry up, but I ignore him. I’m not sure how long, but eventually a servant knocks.

  The guard steps outside before coming back in and announcing, “Lady Heartbran has informed me, if you are so crippled from your harrowing journeys that you cannot complete your bath, I should summon you aid.”

  For a moment, I think that my fantasy is within my grasp, that my vision of a trashy novel scene might come to life. Unfortunately, that is ruined when he clarifies that it will be some of his fellow guards. I take a slow breath before slowly releasing it. “Message received. I will get up.”

  When I do not immediately move, the guard states, “I will summon the house guard.”

  Right as he turns to leave, I jump out of the bath and grab the linens. The guard continues towards the door.

  “Uh… I am out of the bath, you can stop.” I say.

  He pauses and asks, “Do you think you can towel yourself off and get dressed before midday?”

  “You are no fun. I will be fine.” I mumble under my breath about stuffy guards who cannot allow people to enjoy the simple pleasures of life.

  After toweling off, the butler hands me a robe I use to cover myself for the walk back. As I go to collect my armor, the butler stops me. I raise an eyebrow as if to say, ‘What did he think he was doing, taking my stuff?’

  The butler looks at the guard, who raises an eyebrow back. “You really want to keep that pile of rags?”

  “It is the only armor I have,” I say. It’s sad but true. The clothes on my bed look well-made, but all I see is cloth. Even the damaged armor will be better protection, at least in a few spots.

  The guard hesitates. For the first time, his face breaks from its stoic mask. I don’t need empathy to read the ‘are you really sure you want to keep that’ on his face. “…I will let the head armorer know of your need for armor.”

  We make our way back to the room with a brisk walk. Once I get back to the room, I change out of my robe into the clothes that are provided for me. I do need some help once I get the shirt and the pants on. The clothes are called a morning suit and include a weird tie. The clothes I change into are incredibly well-made for a medieval society.

  I’m impressed that they would give me a set of clothes so much nicer than I have, though it does not take much to be nicer than what I rode in with. As I look into the mirror on the stand in my room, I take in the black pants, silver shirt, and red coat. On the coat is a crest in the shape of a shield with a sword and a torch crossing over the shield.

  Despite the clothes being so nice, I refuse to give up my hard-fought artifacts, including the magic sandals. Eventually, the butler convinces me to leave behind my sandals to wear the socks and shoes provided for me. Wearing shoes feels weird after wearing sandals for so long. Though the soft socks and shoes feel cozy.

  I consider the crest on the coat, hoping maybe I might have another epiphany from the memories buried somewhere in my head. I’m almost certain it’s the House Heartbran crest, but what does it mean? I’ve read books that mention the games of politics between noble houses. They are full of subtle messaging, coercive actions, and politicking. Would wearing this crest have some deeper meaning? Is it a way of saying I am now part of Heartbran property or that I work under their direction?

  I have no idea, and nothing pops into my brain. It seems Euberon was not versed in human politics, or if he was, it was not part of the memories I had taken. I feel very lost with all the cultural and societal knowledge I am missing. I try to imagine someone from this realm going to Earth and trying to make sense of some of the slang we have. I’m immensely grateful for all the hard work my empathy is doing, but it has its limitations, and this is one of them. Realizing I have no idea what the messaging could be and that I don’t have a change of clothes, even if it is some kind of power play. I let the guard know I am ready.

  The guard leads me down a narrow stone hallway that flares out into the type of hallways you would see in a Roman pavilion. Giant pillars of granite hold the roof with plenty of light from large windows and sun windows to allow light to shine in. The aesthetic is breath taking and it takes me a moment to realize that the spacious, well-lit building is not just there for show. The high ceiling, plentiful windows, and spacious hallways serve not only to allow more light in but could also be used to quickly light numerous fires.

  Flanking each hallway is a space where oil torches light the hallways when the light of the sun sets. Below, fire pits are placed in the center of the open spaces. If I didn’t know the Heartbran’s are known for their fire affinity, I would have questioned their rampant use of fire in their design choice, considering the temperate climate.

  We swing around to two large doors with intricate writing. I wonder at the artistry as the writing dances between carvings of wildlife in the dark wood. Are the markings runes or just there for decoration? While pondering the meaning of the symbols, I realize I wonder if it's even in the language of humans or if it is in the language the magic this world uses. Is there some other hidden power infused into the grains of the wood? I can read, write, and probably even speak elven. Am I unable to read the doors because Euberon didn’t know the language, or because I never inherited those memories from the archmage?

  I only have a moment to ponder before someone opens the left large door, causing a loud thump before it creaks open. Inside is a crowd of people around an open floor, and at the head are two chairs where a man and woman sit. I recognize the woman as Lady Heartbran. She looks like a more mature version of Olivia. Beside her, with short grizzly salt and pepper hair, is Lord Heartbran. Beside Lady Heartbran, only a few steps to the side is Olivia. She wears an elegant dress with her hands balled in front of her. She looks somewhere between a chastened child and the regal daughter of the estate.

  The lady of the house smiles, though the smile stays contained to her lips, “Ah, the weary wilder at last. I was afraid you might have been drowning in the bath, but it is great to see you safe.”

  I will admit I am scared. I am put on display for so many people and way out of my depth. Back on Earth, so much of the emergency response training I received to deal with high-stress emergencies revolved around drilling in a set of instructions. The idea is you have a guide to fall back on when bullets, blood, or anything else comes flying at you. Too many choices and too much thinking will quickly overwhelm and paralyze.

  There are another dozen tricks I learned as well. Controlled breathing in and out every four seconds to control my heart rate. I touch my thumb to each finger to center my thoughts and focus my free hand from fidgeting nervously. I have heard someone once say a drop of emotion is worth a bucket of logic. The key is to turn off the emotional part of the brain that jumps at shadows and focus on the logical part of the brain that processes the facts of the situation and gives solutions. The easiest way to do that is to ground your mind in sensations. I brush my thumb over the staff in my hand, feeling its smooth surface and the heat of the sunlight on my skin.

  I fall back on the tricks I learned to deal with stress, and soon I master myself, put on a smile, and say, “It would be a shame to drown in a bath after successfully crossing the ocean to get here.”

  She raises her hand in front of her lips as she gives a manicured chuckle. “Yes, it would be. Tell me of this place you come from, this America.”

  I furrow my brows, “I am not sure what to say.”

  I turn to take in the people around me. It feels strange that she wants me to hash out where I came from now in front of all these people.

  With faux concern, she says, “Surely there are people there who are missing you.”

  I think back to my family, at least what was left of my family. “There are a few who might miss me.”

  “I was told you were engaged; surely there are many who miss you.” My hand tightens on the staff. I thought my emotions were mastered, but the wound is still too raw, too recent. I haven’t thought much about Maria since arriving, and I want to keep that tangled ball buried deep. She had not been thinking about me that night, so why should I spend the energy to think of her? Even as the heat of the thought causes my face to redden, I feel guilt carving a hole in my chest. After all, hadn’t I driven her away?

  “Maybe, but there are only a few left that matter,” I say, trying to keep the anger contained. This is not going well. I’m too emotional. I need to get a grip before I do something stupid.

  I turn back to find the lady of the house’s face neutral, studying me. She is too far, and there are too many in the room to pick up her emotions. I can concentrate on feeling them out and curse myself for not doing so from the start.

  Before I can, though, the lord of the house speaks, “We would hear more of your home, but first let it not be said that House Heartbran does not repay their debts.”

  He says as he pointedly looks over at Olivia. For her part, Olivia looks away like a petulant child.

  Turning back to me, he says, “I have been told you were offered an opportunity to go through our dungeon. Surely, a fitting reward for any adventurer, but for one who has gone through so much to rescue the heir, it is insufficient. We will consider what reward is befitting such bravery. You will stay with us while we decide.”

  “So, you will have me as a guest?” I ask.

  His smile reaches his eyes, but it is far too predatory for my liking. “What else would you be?”