“You’re saying I’m still under the geas.” A hollowness entered his voice, along with an edge of urgency. He followed her in pursuit across the hall. “And Isabeau didn’t die.”

“As far as I know, she didn’t.” She couldn’t run from what she had to say any longer. Turning, she dug the heels of both hands into her eyes as she said from the back of her throat, “I was so selfish. I’ve never done anything so selfish in my life. But you were dead, and I couldn’t bear it. So I begged and pleaded, and I offered Azrael a wager. I asked him to let me play for him, and he did. And then he gave you back.”

“He gave me back to a life of slavery?” Morgan snarled. Hard hands clamped on her shoulders. “You should have left me dead!”

Dropping her hands from her eyes, she exclaimed, “I know!”

He whispered, “This nightmare will never end. I’ll never be free of Isabeau. How could you do such a thing?”

“You’re no longer under a geas to obey Isabeau.” She had to force the words out. It was more difficult than anything she had ever said. Bearing the burden of what she had done was heavier than carrying Azrael’s knife. “Azrael gave control of the geas to me.”

Horror and betrayal etched his features. He stared at her as if he had never seen her before. “You’re saying I’m your slave now?”

Her face was wet. She whispered, “It was the only way I could get you back.”

“You don’t have me back!” he roared. “You took something that wasn’t supposed to be yours!”

The words echoed off the walls of the hall like bullets, each one striking at her where she was most vulnerable, underneath her skin.

He pivoted on his heel and stalked away.

She called after him, “Stop!”

Watching his powerful figure freeze broke what was left of her heart.

Walking to him, she came around to face him. Now the betrayal in his expression had turned to loathing.

Just as she had known it would.

She forced herself to concentrate on what she needed to do. Specifics matter. How you phrase things, what elements you choose to put in a spell or a bargain, or what you choose to leave out.

“Listen to me,” she said. “This is the last time you will ever have to see me.” Well, except for the Wild Hunt, but that was another issue entirely. “This is very last time you will ever have to hear me speak. Every order Isabeau ever gave you means nothing now. I order you to live a completely free and autonomous life. I order you to obey no one else’s commands, unless you wish it. I order you to go find joy wherever you may, with whomever you may—to find love, if you like, with someone clever, kind, and educated while you sightsee all the beauty in the world. I order you to follow your heart and your best impulses. I order you to rediscover what it is like to live a life of your own choosing. I order the geas to rest forever and never compel you to do anything again. These words I speak are paramount. Nothing I can possibly say at any point for the rest of my life will ever override the orders I give you right now. Anything else that may fall out of my mouth will be simple conversation, and will signify nothing.”

A muscle bunched in his jaw. He said through gritted teeth, “Are you finished?”

Wiping her face, she thought through what she had just said. It was as good as she could make it. “Yes.”

Stepping around her, he strode to one of the doorways. She turned to watch him go. As he neared it, he began to run. Clearly, he couldn’t get away fast enough.

Well, neither could she.

She left the great hall. Everything was in chaos. Servants were carting out treasures and artwork as fast as they could work. Kallah was nowhere to be seen. Presumably she was helping tend to Isabeau. Thankfully, Sid didn’t see Modred either, or anyone she wanted to say good-bye to. No one paused to talk to her. She was, after all, nobody of any importance to them.

Leaving the castle, she walked the crowded road that led out of town. Then she climbed the long, rolling hills to reach the vantage point where the caravan had once stopped and she had gotten her first glimpse of the castle.

Turning, she looked back one last time. How picturesque and romantic it all looked in the moonlight. As she looked over the scene, one of the main turrets tilted and collapsed with a rolling noise like thunder.

Sighing, she turned away. It was time to try out her new form. For the first time, she reached for the shapeshift, and when she had changed, she found the strap on the violin case fit perfectly around her neck. Azrael had planned well.

She began to run down the road. From various things she had overheard, several crossover passageways ran between Avalon and Earth, but she only knew of one. And this time she knew how to sense it.

She ran through the night and into the morning, reveling in the tirelessness of her lycanthrope body. When she came to the edge of the river where the caravan had once camped, she paused to take a long drink from the cool running water.

There, for the first time, she saw the reflection of what she had become, the monstrous visage, the wicked long teeth, and the powerful, hunched shoulders. It shocked her into changing back into her human form. Wrapping her arms around herself, she sobbed for everything she had lost.

Her humanity.

Morgan.

When she had finished, she wiped off her face and drank more water. Then she pulled out of her pocket the small handkerchief-tied bundle that contained the diminished contents from her performance hat.

Opening it, she fingered through the last of the coins and jewelry. Picking out the small, perfect diamond she had forgotten to give back to Morgan, she threw the rest into the river. She wrapped the diamond in the handkerchief, tucked it into the violin case, changed back into the lycanthrope and started to run again.

She could sense the magic of the crossover passageway as she drew closer, and she was confident none of the guards stationed there would know what had happened. There hadn’t been time for anyone back at the castle to send word. As she loped into the clearing, where she had once been held overnight, a guard strolled unhurriedly out of a nearby building.

As he walked to stand in front of the entrance to the passageway, she picked up speed. Drawing closer, she bared her teeth and growled telepathically, Get out of my way.

Fear flashed across his face. He hesitated only for a moment, but she was a Hound. For all he knew, she was acting on the Queen’s orders. He stepped aside quickly.