There was shouting, a roar of Hounds, and a clash of swords.

She plunged awake in a clench. Disoriented, staring around the strange bedroom, she listened hard for any sound of battle, but there was none. She glanced out the window. It was gray, wet, and foggy outside, but it was definitely daylight. It appeared she had slept quite a while, and the battle had happened yesterday.

At least she hadn’t dreamed about staring down the barrel of a gun for once. Her nightmares were changing.

Dragging herself off the bed, she dug out her toiletries bag, underwear, flannel pants, and T-shirt, and hobbled into the bathroom. Her muscles had stiffened even more overnight. A hot shower loosened things up quite a bit, and after wrapping her hair and torso in towels, she brushed her teeth with reverence and gratitude.

The hot shower had caused the runes on her arms to degrade. She scratched the last of the nail polish off. She was still exhausted. Somehow she had collected quite an array of bruises again, and she felt as hollow as a reed, but by God, at least she was clean. Huzzah.

As soon as I get you out of my system.

From nowhere, the tears welled up. Sitting on the toilet, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

The tortured little dog with his tongue torn out. A puck was hoping for help. Waiting for someone to notice he was gone, taken and lost, but no one ever came.

The oubliette. The skull. The torn bodies, in the pub, strewn across the field. Nikolas’s raw voice and distorted features as he confronted Ashe.

The wreckage of the gatekeeper’s cottage and the manor house. She had barely gotten the chance to fall in love with the property. Now it lay in ruins.

Nikolas’s mouth, his hands, the sensation of taking him into her body. The passionate clench he had held her in as he had moved, and moved, and moved inside her.

As soon as I get you out of my system, I’m gone.

The storm of tears wracked her body. She was as helpless to stop it as a woman giving birth.

It’s okay, she thought. I’m just wrung out. I’m overwrought.

I’m heartbroken.

I’ll get some food. I’ll pull it together. Food and maybe a nap, and I’ll feel like a new person.

From nearby came a shimmer of familiar, wild magic. She lifted her head as the door to her suite opened and closed. Pulling off the towels, she tore into her clothes and burst out of the bathroom and into the tiny sitting area.

An inhumanly slim figure stood at the windows, looking out. He was perhaps as tall as a thirteen-year-old boy and wore skinny jeans, boots, a brown leather jacket, and a navy blue scarf with gold buttons. He had spiky, nut-brown hair and pointed ears.

Wiping her cheeks, she asked, “Robin?”

The figure turned. The puck had a thin, triangular old/young face, fiery, wild eyes, and when he smiled, he showed too many teeth. “Robin brought you cake, dear love.”

As the puck stepped forward, she plunged blindly across the room and threw her arms around him. More stupid tears fell. He pulled back to wipe them from her face, and she saw that he had too many fingers as well.

“I’m sorry, I’ve sprung a leak this morning,” she muttered. “You look—you look—”

“Healed,” the puck said. “Whole.”

Her attention fell to his scarf. The material and the gold buttons were familiar. She fingered one of the buttons. “You made this out of the jacket?”

“I wear a kindness around my neck,” Robin told her. “When the cage threatens to take over my mind, I touch my scarf and remember I am free.”

“I’m so glad,” she whispered. She straightened the scarf around his neck unnecessarily and smoothed it over his narrow chest.

“I’ve come to say good-bye.” Robin laid his hands over hers.

“Oh no, not good-bye,” she echoed in dismay. Just as she fell in love with things, she seemed doomed to lose them. “Are you going back to Lyonesse?”

“No home for Robin,” he said. “Not yet. I go to create mischief for a Queen and her cruel Court. I aim to strike a blow at the very heart of her strength. It will be tricky. There are strings to pull, while I am just a puck. I have no true power over what rules the hearts of others, but I do know what power will bring about her downfall. We old ones play our games of war and dominance, and we forget, you see. We forget how much strength is in the heart, and how much can be transformed and defeated by love. Lord, we’re fools.”

“It sounds dangerous,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to go.”

He kissed her cheeks. “Don’t worry, dear love. They tricked me once; they won’t capture me again. I will come to visit when I can.”

“Promise?”

“Always, Sophie.” He smiled, looking both gentle and feral at once. “Enjoy your cake.”

He slipped out of the suite like a shadow. Sophie stood, listening to the emptiness in the room. Then she noticed the cardboard box on the coffee table. Sitting on the edge of the sofa, she opened the lid.

Inside, there were tiny cakes, iced and decorated with impossible colors and fantastic shapes of spun sugar and fondant. Delicate magic rose with the aroma of sugary goodness. Her mouth watered. Selecting a lavender confection, she popped it in her mouth. It was utterly delicious and melted with a tinkle of magic that spread through her body, smoothing away aches and pains, and leaving behind a feeling of refreshment and well-being.

Holy cow. What a rare, delightful gift. Briefly she struggled to hold back and not eat them all at once, but she had grown too hungry and she couldn’t help herself. She fell on the cakes and consumed every last one.