For the first time in weeks, she had the rest of the day to herself. She was relatively safe for the moment, the sun shining, and the water in the distance sparkled a gorgeous aquamarine blue. For a while, she sat on the balcony, basking in the sun and letting the warmth heal the cold shadows of injury that lingered deep in the corners of her mind, then she moved into the room to nap the rest of the day away, until the sun set and Morgan came.

That set the pattern of the next several days.

Sid returned to the castle to play when the Queen commanded. Aside from that, she spent her days sleeping, sunbathing on the balcony, and taking forays out of town to jog her three miles a day.

The good food, fresh air, and exercise brought back a sense of robustness she hadn’t realized she had lost. They were good days, certainly good enough for someone who had lost control over her own destiny, and far better than she had once feared she would ever see again.

But they weren’t what brought her fully alive.

The nights were.

She was just biding her time, waiting with barely controlled patience for the moment when Morgan pushed through the sheer curtains. When he appeared, she ignited, a candle bursting into flame, and they collided together with such intensity she wondered that the whole of Avalon didn’t feel it.

She lived for those nights, for the touch of his body against hers. For the times he took her and took her, driving her out of her mind with burning pleasure.

The peaks with him were so high at times they frightened her. She felt sometimes as if she were clawing her way directly into the sun. They worked each other to exhaustion, then dozed long enough to rally again, and each night Morgan lingered until the dawn broke over the rooftops. Then he left her, reluctantly, with lingering kisses.

They talked too, desultorily, about their days. She related all the small details of her hours playing with the Queen, the times Isabeau spent by herself reading, or the afternoons she shared with her court ladies. Sid always took note of the knife Isabeau wore on the gold chain at her hips. The only time it had been absent, at least that Sid saw, had been when Isabeau had made love in the garden with the unknown Light Fae male.

When Sid asked Morgan about his research, he pulled a frustrated face. “I haven’t found anything useful yet in the texts,” he told her. “And when I try to construct a summoning spell, my mind slips away from the task. I can’t hold on to it. My intent is too clear, and the action too direct. The geas won’t let me complete it, and I haven’t found a way to work around it.”

The tension in his body when he talked revealed the depth of his anger at the invisible cage. Stroking his back, she let the subject go and didn’t ask again. He would tell her whenever he had a breakthrough.

They never talked about the future, or at least, not in detail. Afterward, Sid would wonder why. For her part, she was afraid they might jinx things.

What if they broke free yet found, after everything they had gone through, they didn’t suit each other? She didn’t think she could bear it.

Or what if they never broke free?

Also perhaps the geas wouldn’t let Morgan speak too much of building a life without it. The full extent of its binding on him was still a mystery.

Then early one afternoon, she received the summons from the guard. After readying herself, she walked back to the castle and collected the lute. The guard led her to the private garden, where Kallah waited by the doors.

She waved Sid on, her expression pinched. “I’ll come get you when your hour is over.”

Sid nodded. They had developed a routine. Making her way to the small semi-enclosed area with the stool, she took her seat. This too had become quickly familiar.

But this time was not like the others.

This time Isabeau lay weeping on the divan, her dark green dress looking unusually stark against the brightness of the nearby flowers. A man reclined with her, his back to Sidonie. At first, she couldn’t tell who he was.

Turning so she could look over the garden, yet still keep sight of the divan in the corner of her eye, she began to play a soft lullaby, the delicate strains gently permeating the air. All the while, she listened as intently as she could.

“I can’t tell you enough how horrible it is,” Isabeau sobbed. “Nobody truly understands what I go through. I never sleep, never. He’s always there if I sink too deep, walking through my dreams. Whispering things to me—There’s that damn girl. It’s about time she showed up.”

With a start, Sid realized Isabeau was talking about her. She angled her head away and kept her gaze lowered, not willing to risk even the slightest chance of meeting anyone’s eyes on the other side of the roses.

“You should not have let her leave the castle if you wanted her so closely at your beck and call,” Modred said. The sound of his voice sent an icy shiver down Sid’s spine. “Darling, are you quite sure it is he, and not simply a bad dream?”

“No, it’s him.” Isabeau’s voice shook. “Sometimes I dream I’m in this huge hall, with black and white marble floors and bloodred roses. It’s so silent there. Nothing moves. There’s not even any wind. Then I hear his footsteps approaching, and… just the sound of those steady, quiet steps fills me with such horrible dread I want to scream and scream.”

“Yes, you’ve told me about this dream before,” Modred murmured. “Has it changed? Have you seen his face?”

At least that was what Sid thought he murmured. He spoke too quietly for her to be sure. She switched songs, and began playing “Scarborough Fair.”

“No, not in that dream. I just hear him coming for me. In other dreams, I see his face. I don’t ever remember what he looks like, but I do know I have seen him. He has the most piercing green eyes, and… and when he speaks, it’s in a gentle voice that is somehow so much worse than anyone else’s scream.” In a sudden movement, Isabeau sat and turned to grip Modred by the shoulders as she cried, “It’s unnatural! We’re not supposed to have anything to do with him! Mortal creatures are his prey—not us! WE’RE SUPPOSED TO LIVE FOREVER!”

Could Isabeau be talking about Azrael? Sid almost forgot herself and stopped playing. Catching herself up, she switched songs.

“Isabeau,” Modred said sharply. “Calm yourself! You’ve been having these dreams for ages, and nothing has changed. They haven’t harmed you. There’s been no catastrophe. You are perfectly, beautifully, whole as always.”