Rousing briefly, Sidonie murmured in disappointment. As she curled on her side, he spooned her from behind and pulled her back against his chest. Time was running out, he knew, and there were things that needed to be done, but they were both exhausted. The delicate skin underneath Sidonie’s eyes looked bruised with dark purple shadows.

Everything else would have to wait a few more hours. Burying his nose against the back of her neck, he slept again.

A knock on the door woke them next. Rolling over, he grabbed the sword he had brought with him. Sidonie rolled over with him and took hold of his arm.

She met his gaze and shook her head while she raised her voice to ask, “What is it?”

“I’ve got your breakfast tray, mum.” It was a boy’s cheerful voice. Morgan’s grip on the sword hilt relaxed. “It’s nice and hot.”

Sidonie cuddled against his back and nuzzled his shoulder, calling out, “Thank you! Just leave it on the floor, and I’ll get it.”

“Yes’m.”

Morgan listened to the boy’s quick footsteps fade away. Leaning back against the pillows, he watched with pleasure as Sidonie slipped out of bed. She was perfectly built all over. As she bent to scoop up her tunic from the floor, the graceful curve of her spine caught at him. He couldn’t look away from the perfection of her fluid movement until she had pulled the tunic over her head and the fabric had settled over her torso.

Padding to the door, she unlocked it and brought the breakfast tray in. Pausing to lock the door again, carefully, she carried the tray to the bed. There was sausage, egg, and potatoes, hot tea, and a flaky, buttery biscuit.

She climbed back under the covers and they shared the food. He paused between taking bites to press kisses at the back of her neck, which made her murmur with pleasure as she cuddled against his side.

A small thump sounded out on the balcony, and a black cat strolled into the room. Once it had passed within the sheer curtains, it changed into Robin.

“It’s about time you both woke up,” the puck said. “I was beginning to think I might have to walk on your heads.”

Sidonie heaved a sigh and leaned back against Morgan. She murmured, “I suppose it was too much to hope the peace would last.”

“No, it wasn’t. We could have taken a day before facing everything else. Just one damn day.” He slipped an arm around her waist as he eyed the view out the balcony doors. Even in daylight, he couldn’t fault the puck’s choice of rooms. The inn was built high enough none of the windows from neighboring buildings provided line of sight. The only way Morgan could be spotted was if he stepped onto the balcony without a cloaking spell. “What do you want, Robin?”

“Have you told her yet?” With no apparent sense of shame or discretion, Robin sat at the food of the bed and swiped the last of the biscuit from the breakfast tray.

“I haven’t had time.” Pouring the last of the tea into the single cup, he handed it to Sidonie, who cupped it in both hands.

“Oh, you had time.” The puck’s eyes gleamed. “You just had other priorities.”

“Our priorities are none of your business,” Sidonie snapped. She looked adorable when she was cranky. Her short black hair stood in tufts like a bird’s feathers. Scowling, she buried her nose in the cup.

Robin did not appear as charmed by Sidonie as Morgan was. “No, they’re not,” the puck snapped back. “Unless they interfere with what we all need to see done.”

“What is he talking about?” Sidonie twisted to face him. “What haven’t you told me.”

Morgan sighed. “Robin thinks Isabeau’s Hounds might actually be from Azrael’s Wild Hunt.”

Her expression went blank. “Okay. I’m sure that’s not comfortable.”

“I’ve told you this already, human. You have no real knowledge of the gods, their Powers and aspects, and how they move through this world,” Robin said, giving her an irritated glance. “Lord Azrael leads the Wild Hunt at the death of each year, or at least he did. The more I have considered this, the more I have grown convinced he has not called the Wild Hunt for a very long time, perhaps even as long as Isabeau has been in possession of his knife.”

“You were imprisoned for a long time,” Morgan told him. “Maybe you missed it.”

“It’s possible.” Robin acknowledged as he ate the morsel of biscuit in quick, clean bites. “But I think my explanation rings truer. There were also a great many years I was not imprisoned, and I still did not sense the Wild Hunt.”

“What does this hunt do, and why does it matter?” Sidonie asked.

Robin looked exasperated, so Morgan answered. “Some believe the hunt is to chase unclean spirits from the earthly realms. Others believe Azrael is hunting down souls that have escaped his domain. Still other tales make mention of random prey, such as a lost maiden, or unwary travelers. From what I understand, no one knows for sure.”

Closing her eyes and hunching her shoulders, Sidonie sipped her tea. She said, “So what?” Robin’s thin face sparked with ire, but before he could say anything, she opened her eyes and looked at him. “I mean that as a serious question. So what? Half what you’ve said is supposition, and the other half sounds like folktales. What is the useful bit? Give me the condensed version.”

Morgan told Robin, “She doesn’t know about the Deus Machinae.” As Sidonie twisted to look up at him inquiringly, he explained, “There are seven indestructible God Machines active in the world, put here by the seven gods. For a while, I thought the knife might be one of those. Robin thinks otherwise.”

“Which is good news,” Robin said. “Just not easy news. If it is literally Lord Death’s Knife, it’s still an item of immense Power that was created by a god. But if it isn’t one of the Machines, perhaps it can be destroyed. And also, unlike the Deus Machinae… wouldn’t Lord Azrael want his knife back?”

Morgan felt the shiver that ran through Sidonie. She whispered, “But he’s a god. If he wants his knife back, why wouldn’t he just take it?”

Morgan pressed a kiss to her temple. “Perhaps because he’s not the only god. Will is also one of the seven Primal Powers. He’s the god of the Gift, which can mean anything from individual gifts, or gifts of the spirit like your talent for music, to acts of sacrifice and philanthropy. He’s also the guardian of free will, which is one of the linchpins in the universe. The gods must respect we all have free will to act as we choose. Azrael might not be able to take back the knife if Isabeau doesn’t want to give it to him.”