Trent led the brown horse past me, her hooves clopping on the old wood. “It’s not a what, it’s a who.”

Oh. My. God. “Nick?” I said, eyes wide.

Jerking, Trent seemed to reassess his thoughts. “No. He vanished right out of a very secure cell. Jumped a line is our best guess.” He looked at me questioningly. “I take it you didn’t pull him out?”

I shook my head, arms around myself as I thought that through. “How long have you known I can shift realities with a ley line?” I asked.

Trent grimaced, appearing embarrassed. “I’ve been trying to get into my father’s vault since he died, Rachel,” he said, the rims of his ears going red. “I didn’t even know I could do it until Nick suggested you could.”

Oh, that was damn peachy keen, and I couldn’t help but wonder who Nick had been taking to. Minias? Newt? Both of them knew my history. Dali? God, I hoped not.

My head turned and a shudder passed through me as I heard a distant horn. Heart pounding, I paced to where Trent was calmly saddling the brown mare with a western saddle. “Who is out there?” I asked, and when his jaw clenched, I breathed, “Jonathan.”

The man gave me a sideways look, fingers never stilling as he cinched the girth. Still not answering me, Trent handed me the reins, then untied his horse and led it to the second, much larger door that opened up onto the paddock. I stood there, thinking. “Tell me that’s not Jonathan,” I called after him.

“I’m telling you it’s not Jonathan!” he shouted back, then stopped in the doorway. “If you don’t want to ride the Hunt, we can go over the pastures, but it’s a new moon, and I’m getting on a horse.”

I remembered his anger in the FIB interrogation room when he told me Jonathan had used Trent’s work to try to kill me. I didn’t believe him. Slowly I tightened my grip. My feet moved, and the horse—I didn’t even know her name—followed me with eager steps. But when I reached the opening, I paused.

Trent sat bareback atop Tulpa, looking like he belonged there. The sun had gone down behind him, making the still-bright sky pink and blue. Fog was rising from the damp hills, and I breathed it in, feeling the cool all the way to the bottom of my lungs. According to my dad, to ride with elves meant abandoning your life, to possibly become lost forever. The faint baying of the hounds pricked the horses’ ears, and Tulpa stomped impatiently. A shiver went through me.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, scared.