“I understand.” He hooked one arm behind his head. After a moment, he added, “But I had to kill Modred. He’s the one who killed my king, from the time I was human. I couldn’t… not kill him.”

Lifting her head, she stared at him. He was watching the ceiling, his face pensive.

“Did it help?” she asked gently.

He sighed. “You know, it did. I worried it wouldn’t, and I would always be looking back at a past I could no longer reach. It was worse when I was at Isabeau’s court, because I could never get away from it. Being forced to interact with her and Modred was like rubbing salt into a wound that never healed. Now everything feels different. Cleaner.” With a shrug, he added, “I don’t know how to put it any better than that.”

She pressed a kiss to his pectoral muscle. “I’m just glad you feel like you can move on.”

He grinned. “I’m starting to have thoughts like, What am I going to do with my life now? And how do you start a new career when you’re past middle age?”

That caused her to burst out laughing. “You can literally do anything you want. Thirty-seven is not middle-aged!”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “When you’ve been thirty-seven for… Oh, never mind. I’m not going to share that number with you.”

“You could always pick up your old instruments and start playing again.”

“No,” he said, after a reflective moment. “That belongs in the past too. Besides, I would far rather listen to you.”

“Well, don’t try to force anything,” she murmured. “You have all the time in the world, and something will occur to you.”

“I’ll tell you one thing right now.” He rapped a knuckle gently against her head. “Whenever you’re ready to go on tour, you’re not going to use Vince’s security company again.”

“Oh, no?” She hid a smile. She had a feeling she knew what was going to come next.

“No,” he replied in a firm voice. “I’ll take care of your security. Me, along with some of the other Hounds.”

Even though Morgan had disbanded the thirty-two surviving Hounds, several had already asked to come back to him. Unable to settle into their former lives, they missed the structure and community of the pack. Morgan had been noncommittal up until this point, but now she knew he meant to take in everyone that asked.

“They need you,” she said.

“Well, I need you,” he told her. “So they can help me guard you and make sure you’re safe.”

“Lately, I’ve been daydreaming about starting a small, independent music label,” she confessed. “But I’ll be honest, the whole idea of the business side of things is overwhelming. That’s what I pay Rikki to handle. I just want to write songs and play the violin.”

He was silent for so long, she lifted her head to check on him. He was still watching the ceiling, but now his eyes were narrowed and his expression had come alive with interest.

He said slowly, “How would you feel if I looked into doing it? It sounds like the kind of challenge I might enjoy, and I like the idea of supporting independent musicians. Some of the Hounds would be good at management. Others could focus on security.”

Rolling onto her back, she went into a full body stretch. “I think you can do anything you want to, even that.”

When October came, Sid felt it was time to tackle going home to New York. “We don’t have to stay, if you don’t want,” she told Morgan. “But I’ve got an apartment I’m paying a fortune for, and right now it’s just gathering dust. I’ve got to figure out what I’m going to do with it.”

“Let’s go,” he said immediately. “I’d like to spend some time in New York. Besides, there’s someone there I would like to see.”

“Okay!” she said. “I’m game if you are.”

Within a couple of days, the travel arrangements were set, and they had packed up all their personal belongings. They flew into the Newark airport and took a car service to Sid’s apartment.

She stared out at the early evening during the drive. The trees had begun to change, and the fall colors were brilliant. The smells were complex and exciting, and everything felt both familiar and strange at once.

Her apartment was located in a high-rise building, and it felt like a disappointment. She remembered it being spacious and comfortable, but as soon as they walked in the door, she knew it wouldn’t do.

“This is too closed in for me,” she said, walking over restlessly to the wall of windows to look out at the view. “Sure, the view is great, but you can’t open any of these windows. This is going to make me crazy.”

Morgan set the last of the luggage on the floor and joined her. “So we’ll look for something else,” he said with a shrug. “It’s an attractive enough place, but I’ve dealt with being a lycanthrope for far longer than you have. I think you still need room to roam.”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “I do too.”

Morgan had made arrangements to meet with the person he wanted to see that evening. She had overheard snatches of an intriguing phone conversation while she had been taking a shower, so after they hauled the luggage into her bedroom, she asked, “Do you want me to disappear when your person arrives?”

“Please don’t feel like you have to,” he told her with a relaxed smile. “But you might be more comfortable if you took an evening walk.”

That settled it. She wouldn’t leave now if the building were on fire.

Instead, she got to work unpacking while Morgan sat at her dining table with a glass of scotch and looked out over the city.

Soon there was an imperious knock on the door. Abandoning her chore, Sid stepped into the doorway of the bedroom to watch Morgan answer it. He stood back, holding the door wide.

A massive man prowled in. Close to seven feet in height, he dominated the apartment as soon as he set foot inside. He had raven black hair, dark bronze skin, fierce gold eyes, and he carried an invisible corona of Power that made Sid take an instinctive step back.

Dragos Cuelebre, Lord of the Wyr demesne in New York, had come to call.

“Hello,” Morgan said. He still sounded relaxed, even friendly.

Dragos’s eyes glittered hard as gold coins. “What are you doing in my city?”