“You can freak out about it later,” Jeremy said. “We need to figure out what to do now. We should probably—”

“Probably?” Rafe said. Finally he shook off the bewildered daze he’d been in since waking up in this world. “Emilie’s gone. While you two were playing Jedi knights, whoever has her was getting away. You all have horses. Can you track? We need to hunt them down, now, and get her back ten minutes ago.”

This speech was met with silence.

“I thought you said he didn’t remember he’s a prince?” Tempest said to Jeremy.

“He doesn’t.”

Tempest gave him the slightest of smiles. “Are you sure about that? Sounds like our prince.”

“Still bossy,” Ember said.

“Focus, please,” Jeremy demanded. “Where’s Skya? We brought her sister and—”

“The queen is on her own mission,” Tempest said. “One I’m not at liberty—”

Rafe said, “Someone has Emilie. Is anyone going to help us find her, or do we have to go ourselves? I’m ready to go. Ten seconds until we get a good answer or I’m leaving. Ten—”

Tempest said, “The queen asked me to tell you both, ‘Thank you for bringing her sister to Shanandoah. You have fulfilled your promise in full. The princess is no longer your concern or obligation. Please accompany the Valkyries to the palace forthwith.’ ”

“Skya said that?” Jeremy said. “Was she high at the time?”

“I’m paraphrasing,” Tempest said. “She left us a note for you.”

She held out a sheet of linen paper. Jeremy took it and unfolded it.

Jeremy read from the paper, “ ‘Stop arguing with the Valkyries, asshole, and do as you’re told.—Skya.’ Okay, that sounds more like her.”

“No, no, I’m arguing,” Rafe said. “Emilie is—”

“No longer your concern, Highness,” Tempest said. “And if you wish to know more and why, we must go to the palace. You are both under the queen’s orders.”

“I’m not leaving until—”

“Rafe,” Jeremy said.

“No, no, I’m not—”

“One minute, please, Highness.” Jeremy took him by the arm, and they stepped away from the Valkyries.

Rafe had had enough of orders. “Highness? Seriously?”

“Better get used to it. Rafe, listen, if Skya told us to go to the palace—”

“I don’t know Skya, but I know Emilie. We can’t leave her out here—”

“You do know Skya,” he said. “You do. And you love her and you trust her with your life. Tempest knew who I was from the first second she saw us. She knew me, and she knew you. That whole song and dance with the sword fight was to buy time for some reason, and apparently it was Skya’s reason. We need to go to the palace anyway. That’s where your book is.”

Rafe stepped away from Jeremy and faced Tempest. “Just tell me one thing, please.”

“Anything, Highness,” she said.

“Is Emilie safe right now?”

“None of us are safe right now. That’s why she was taken. But this should give you comfort, Highness. Right now the princess is safer where she is than she would be with you two.”

Some of the terror and fury left Rafe’s body at that news.

“Whether you can believe it or not,” Jeremy said, “these are our friends.”

The funny thing was that Rafe could believe it. He wanted to believe it anyway.

Rafe took a breath. “Is the palace close?”

“We have to ride,” Tempest said.

“Where are our horses?” Jeremy asked her.

“At the palace,” she said.

“You knew we were here. Why didn’t—”

“You want your horses? Come back to the palace,” Tempest said.

“What are your names?” Rafe asked them.

“Rebel,” said one and bowed. “River,” said another. One by one they each said their name with a bow.

“I’m not a fan of the bowing,” Rafe said.

The smallest Valkyrie, the pale one called Winter, said, “You never were, Highness.” In lieu of a bow, she gave him an awkward curtsy, which he found painfully endearing.

“All right. Let’s go,” he said. And if he hadn’t quite believed he was a prince before, he did when every one of them, Jeremy included, immediately scrambled to obey.

“Mount up,” Tempest cried out.

Seven horses for nine riders, so Rebel and River rode together, leaving a horse for Jeremy. Rafe assumed he’d ride with one of the others, but Winter offered him her horse, a brown mare dappled in white spots like a newborn fawn.

“Take mine. I’ll ride with Gale,” Winter said. “Her name is Sparrowhawk.”

“I don’t know how to ride,” he told her.

Her white eyelashes framed eyes so pale they were almost pink. They widened at that statement, and she shook her head.

“It’ll come back to you at once,” she said. “Just like bossing us around.”

“Sorry about that.”