The question hit from out of the blue, and it made him recoil. Gods, no! he exclaimed violently. Why would you ask such a thing?!

Do you swear you’re telling the truth? She probably had no idea how telepathic speech mimicked verbal speech. Doubtless she was unaware of just how shakily she had asked that question.

But Morgan heard it, and furious concern roared through him. What had that bastard done to her? In a soft, evenly controlled voice, he said, If Warrick has done anything to hurt or frighten you, I swear I will cut out his heart and feed it to him.

On second thought, that probably hadn’t sounded as reassuring as he would have wished. Pressing one fist against the wooden door, he willed her to believe him.

A shadow passed in front of the candlelight shining underneath the door, and there was a soft, muffled sound, close by.

She said, more calmly, He didn’t do anything to me. He was boorish and suggestive, and he wears weapons. It’s not a good combination. He also threatened Triddick, who stood up for me and backed him off.

Morgan was going to kill Warrick. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t know when, but it would be soon. He had always known Warrick had a rough edge, but he’d always been able to keep the other man in check before. Now that Morgan was supposedly gone from Avalon, Warrick’s true colors were emerging.

Quietly, he asked, Why on earth would you think I was Warrick? Have I done anything boorish or suggestive to you?

No! she exclaimed. Then, more calmly, No, of course you haven’t. You’re… you’ve been amazing. I literally don’t believe I would still be alive, if it weren’t for you, and you didn’t stop with just saving my life. You keep helping me. I’ve grown to rely upon you. But you are the one who keeps warning me not to trust you, and I know you’re not Light Fae. Warrick is the first man who isn’t Light Fae that I’ve seen since I’ve gotten here. And when I thought about how I know so few facts about you, I got a little freaked out.

He absorbed all that in silence. Finally he said, You know I can’t promise what might be done under the geas, but I will never hurt you. I—the man—will never hurt you. I will never push past any barrier you erect, or coerce you into doing something you do not want to do. I will always support, respect, and defend you.

How chivalrous, she whispered.

Well… yes. His lips pulled into a wry smile.

Your well-being matters to me, he said. The music your spirit creates… it matters to me. If you want to talk to me through a closed door, and if you want to keep your candle lit so you aren’t in the dark, I am not going to do anything to change that. And if you tell me to go away and leave you alone, I will go. Just… for your sake, we should arrange to meet tomorrow, so I can cast the battle spell on you before you play for the Queen.

On the other side of the door, he heard a quiet thump, as if she had banged her forehead against the panel. She said, Thank you for saying all that. I believe you. Hang on.

A moment passed, and then the light went out in her room. None of the servants’ rooms had locks on the doors, but he made no move to open hers. Clenching his fists, he made himself wait, until she opened the door.

When she did, he strode forward and snatched at her. At the same moment, she leaped at him, throwing her arms around his neck, and something raw and angry eased inside, and he was so tired of thinking about what he should or shouldn’t do, he threw all of it out of his head, lifted her off her feet, and kissed her.

Raising her face, she met him halfway. Their lips collided, not gently. A muffled laugh escaped her, then she parted her lips, and he delved inside as deeply as he could go.

Kissing her was a euphoric experience. The softness of her wet mouth, the eagerness with which she kissed him back, the velvet sensation of her tongue sliding across his.

His conscience made one last effort. Lifting his head a little, he whispered against her mouth, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Shut up and get inside so we can close the door,” she whispered back.

Quickly, he complied and shoved the door gently with one foot so that it settled into place. He glanced around. The walls of the servants’ rooms were made of thick stone, but someone could still eavesdrop at either the window or the door. With a flick of his fingers, he cast a dampening spell in the room so that all the sound inside the room was muffled.

“I spelled the room,” he told her. “We can talk freely. Nobody outside will be able to hear anything.”

“Okay, good to know. Wait a minute.” In the faint illumination of the moonlight shining into her small window, he watched her tilt her head. She asked, “Why didn’t you throw that kind of spell when you came to visit me in prison? But instead you said, oh no, we needed to whisper.”

“We do need to whisper without the dampening spell,” he snapped. “Either that or use telepathy. I’ve been dealing an injury, and after I healed you that first night, I had no magic left. Besides, I didn’t want you to be able to recognize my voice. But I let that one out of the bag when I gave you the telepathic earrings.”

She threw up her hands in exasperation. “What on earth are you talking about now? Remember, I know almost nothing about magic items.”

“A person’s telepathic voice sounds like their physical voice,” he told her. “As soon as you heard me telepathize, you’ve been able to identify me by my voice. But since you’d gotten yourself out of prison, I thought we needed to be able to communicate any way we could, so I made the earrings. And right now it doesn’t matter if we whisper or not. It just matters that we not be overheard—but there’ll be plenty of times I can’t throw the dampening spell.”

Heaving an aggrieved sigh, she said, “Okay, I’ll bite. Why not?”

“Because it would never go unnoticed in a crowd. Dampening spells are cast over areas, not over people, and as soon as someone walks into a dampened area they know it.” Resentment boiled over. He accused, “I can’t believe you thought I might be Warrick.”

“Oh, I get it now,” she remarked, dark humor lacing her voice. “You really spelled the room so we could argue.”

“Can you blame me?” he snapped.

“Fine—go ahead and be mad at me. But I didn’t know what to believe!” she exclaimed. “You’re so insistent on not telling me any details about yourself…. Or at least as few details as possible. Even just now, you only told me about telepathic voices sounding like physical voices because you had to.”