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quirked upwards, a gesture that made Sade think that the warning was at least in part a joke. But she couldn’t be sure.
    Haytham continued to strip down. Sade asked, “Did you want me to put your clothes in my bag?”
    “Let the elves keep their finery,” Haytham said. He had stripped off his trousers; now he pulled off his undergarments as well.
    Sade averted her gaze, though the Wind-Dancer no reason to be ashamed. His body was sculpted muscle: broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist, light brown hair furring the base of his defined chest and crotch. He wore a large, metal collar. Two rings had been affixed to the left and right sides, and from them hung long strips of leather.
    He turned, dropping into a crouch, and his body seemed to crack, the skin breaking in a sickening crunch of bone and flesh as he transformed. Within a few breaths, the man had become a giant bird of prey. He lowered himself to the floor, flexing a wing forward and jiggling his bent leg.
    So that was how she was supposed to climb onto his back. Before fear and shock could change her mind, Sade stepped onto Haytham’s strangely transformed thigh and swung herself onto his back.
    Now Sade understood why the leather ropes had been affixed to his collar. She grabbed on to them, one in each hand.
    Then, she was being pressed forward into his feathers as he leaped from the ledge into the open air.
    Sade’s stomach lurched. The cold wind seemed to catch up her elven silks, grabbing them and fanning them around her in the air in a mockery of a flag. Sade snuck a look at the vista of treetops fanning out below her, then squeezed her eyes shut as Haytham’s wings beat forcefully against the air, propelling them further upwards.
    Sade realized she was praying. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name,” she whispered. The words fell naturally from her lips, though she had no recognition of where they’d come from, or to which of the Gods she was offering her prayer.
    She didn’t know how long she clung to Haytham’s back, eyes shut and praying, but eventually her heart calmed, and she was able to look out over the vista beneath them. Haytham’s body below her was warm, and she was thankful, because the winds rushing over and around her whipped at her face and hair with painful chill.
    Soon the trees of the elven court were only a splotch of red and gold behind them, as they climbed closer and closer to an expanse of snow-capped mountain peaks.
    Was this where Haytham meant to take her? It looked desolate. What would they eat, and how would she stay warm? The princess hadn’t packed any blankets, as far as Sade could tell. She hoped Laire and Haytham’s grand plan wasn’t to freeze her to death on some barren mountaintop.
    Considering, though, that her options at this point were either to hang on, or to jump off and fall thousands of feet to her death, it was probably better to stay put and hope for the best.
    The sun was about halfway down its journey toward the horizon when Haytham began to descend. Sade held on tightly as the great bird drew his wings in close to his body.
    They landed with a light bump on the mountain ledge. Sade closed her eyes, breathing heavily, happy just to be alive.
    She scrambled down from Haytham’s back and jumped to the rocky ground. The sole of her left foot scraped against a stone, bringing tears to her eyes. Beside her, there was a crunch and then a hiss, as like displaced air, and Sade turned toward the sound to see Haytham naked on his hands and knees on the ground, panting.
    Haytham’s rear end was a thing of beauty, Sade thought. Her cheeks warmed at the thought. She couldn’t help but feel herself disloyal… but to whom? Perhaps to the princess?
    Sade dismissed the thought. She hardly intended to be loyal to a woman who had dreams of skinning her.
    Haytham said, “Welcome to my home.” He stood up, and leisurely stretched his long, furred, muscular body. Sade had to glance