Elayra shot Ghent an irate look when he asked about Miles, mingling with another inaccurate thought of his of her home. “Whatever you [i]think[/i] you know, [i]forget it![/i]” she hissed quietly through her teeth, emphasizing each syllable of the last two words.
	With her weapon on the ground, it took no small amount of willpower to avoid snatching it back up and throwing it at him. But she had no desire to find out what kind of damage a gun could do. As inconspicuously as she could, she took a small step back as Miles mulled over her offer, trying to place herself a bit behind Ghent. If Miles did not back down, she hoped an electric bolt would be quicker than the man’s pistol.
	“Be ready,” she muttered to Ghent, moving her lips as little as possible to avoid further upsetting Miles.
	[b]“Just the three of us…”[/b]
	Elayra made a slow, deep nod in confirmation. When he looked back to his station wagon, Elayra’s gaze flitted between him and the dagger, aching to grab it and take advantage of even the second’s distraction, but she forced herself to stay in place before the barrel of the unfamiliar weapon.
	Elayra blinked in surprise when, at long last, Miles lowered the gun. It had [i]actually[/i] worked. And it had been a lot easier than it normally was with Drust. Her surprise changed to a scowl when she saw Ghent smirk at Mile’s demands in the corner of her eye, an almost proud smirk, and she moved to kick him in the shin in warning.
 	Her attention snapped back to miles when Ghent’s expression made the man wave his gun back to them. She cast Ghent a cross glance, the threat of murder in it if he made Miles use the weapon, but then his final demand made her inhale.
	He knew about magic.
	They could have downplayed his statement of knowing “where you’re really going,” tried to play dumb, but magic was not something she could easily deny, especially if he saw her rain shield. Elayra’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. She looked him over again, searching for any sign he was working with the Sorceress, perhaps placed in this world before the Curse. After all, they had just agreed to willingly go with him. That could be exactly what he had been going for.
	She took careful note of how he opened the back door of the vehicle, taking in the layout as well as she could from the sidewalk. The inside was small, and even if Ghent [i]did[/i] try to use magic in there, she doubted it would end well for any of them. She glanced longingly at her dagger, as if saying a farewell to a best friend on their death bed, as she stepped around it and walked slowly toward the wagon with Ghent.
	During Ghent and Miles’ exchange about kidnapping, she looked down the street in the direction they had been heading, the direction toward the portal to Wonderland.
	[i]Sorry, Drust,[/i] she thought bitterly. [i]We’re going to be a bit late.[/i]
	She reluctantly started to remove her own pack as Ghent tossed his inside, her back stiffening when it rubbed against the bruise beneath it. She looked to Miles through the open window, assessing his position verses where they would be. Her gaze lingered for a moment on the space between the front seats.
	Her angered gaze snapped to Ghent when she caught onto the tone of the beginning of the title he had begun to favor using, but thankfully, he caught himself. She gave a slight, approving nod when he amended the statement.
	“Well, if Miles would be so kind as to allow me to keep it?” The hint of calm kindness she tried to use came out stiff, almost as if it pained her. 
	At the man’s okay, she did her best to hide a satisfied grin as she followed after Ghent as he went to retrieve it, bending down as he did.
	“As soon as we’re in,” she began in a rushed whisper as she let Ghent grab her dagger first, her back to the car so Miles would not see her mouth moving, “watch for my signal, then reach for his gun. Just keep him from shooting either of us.” She turned back toward the wagon with Ghent, and took her dagger from him. “Think you can do that?” she asked, nodding to try making the words look like a thanks as she bent and carefully replaced it in the opposite boot as its sheath, the hilt keeping it from sinking all the way down as they returned to the wagon.
	[b]“Ladies first.”[/b]
	Elayra glowered at him. “Don’t think so, Featherhead. You first.” She jerked her head toward the backseat, ready to follow him inside so she would be sitting directly behind Miles, her pack hanging by a strap in her hand.