Maybe Arsen did, but I didn’t. And I didn’t find out, because the room went swimmy a second later, harder than before. And this time, it didn’t snap back; I didn’t know why.

“Give her another!” a woman’s voice demanded. I felt a slap across my face, hard enough to rock my head back. And to shake the connection between me and Arsen.

Oh, that was why.

“Wake her up!”

“I can’t!” That was another woman, younger, and slightly hysterical. “I’m trying, but—”

“You’re not trying; you’re too soft! Get out of the way.”

The first slapper was shoved aside, and someone else took over. And this one meant business. I opened my eyes after another slap, to see Guinn staring down at me.

There were leaves in her hair, a cut on her cheek, and she was glaring. “Wake up, damn you!” she said, and then she slapped the crap out of me. And before I could react or even yelp, she had her hand pulled back for an encore.

Until I clumsily caught it. “Cut it out!”

“Then wake up! You can’t be in there—”

“In where?”

“The Common!”

“Is that where I am?” I slurred, still trying to sort out my tongue.

“Yes, and it isn’t meant for you!” she said angrily. “I don’t even know how you’re accessing it—” I do, I thought, thinking of Mircea’s mental gifts and Pritkin’s fey blood. “—but it’s going to kill you!”

“Kill me?” My voice might have squeaked slightly.

But if Guinn gave an explanation, I didn’t hear it.

Because the scene suddenly changed, as abruptly as if something had snatched me up and flung me back into the vision, to the point that I felt like I should have been sprawled on the floor.

But, instead, I was back in Arsen’s body, standing in front of Aeslinn—the one in silver silk, and with two hands. The older version, I realized, from an earlier time. No, I thought. No take me back to the one where he was talking about the war. I want to see that!

But the Common clearly didn’t give a damn what I wanted to see.

And if there was a directory on this thing, nobody had told me where to find it.

“If it please Your Grace,” the functionary said, bowing again. Only to take a boot to the shoulder as Aelsinn kicked him out of the way.

“It does not please! Be silent!”

The functionary shut up.

“Take… who… on Earth?” Arsen asked carefully.

“Who do you think?” Aeslinn’s gray eyes, usually dark as storm clouds, were lit with a strange light. “We’ve found him again. Going by the name of Pritkin these days—”

Wait, what? I thought.

“Who?” Arsen said again.

“The damned demon!”