No doubt that explained the woman’s delight—and the trunk of clothes borrowed from Ashk’s wardrobe—when Padrick asked Ashk’s lady’s maid to accompany them on the voyage. The fiend now had a captive female to play with—a female who didn’t know enough about gentry ways to argue when told “this is what’s done in a gentry household.” Remembering the twinkle in Padrick’s eyes every time she stepped out of the ship’s cabin after submitting to another change of clothes and restyling of her hair, she suspected gentry ladies didn’t usually change outfits four or five times a day—especially when they weren’t going anywhere.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Padrick patted the arm linked through his. “You do look lovely, Morag. You could pass for a gentle gentry lady.”

Morag snorted. “How many gentle gentry ladies do you know who ride a dark horse?”

“That’s beside the point. With your hair coiled up like that and wearing those clothes, and with the glamour, no one would look at you and realize you were Fae, let alone the Gatherer of Souls.”

“What I am is not something that should be hidden,” Morag said quietly.

Padrick’s teasing smile faded. “No,” he replied solemnly. “Ashk can put aside the Hunter because she is also the Green Lady. But you are always the Gatherer.”

“Yes.” And during the voyage to this harbor town, having the borrowed attention of an attractive, intelligent man, she’d found herself regretting that being Death’s Mistress was all she would be. All she could be. Padrick had been right, though. Sailing to this place had cost her nothing in time and given her the rest she’d badly needed. The greatest blessing had been the dreams. No nightmares of blood and death. No glimpses of an enemy who could destroy those she loved and disappear before she could fight back and protect them. She and the dark horse had simply cantered through green—green woods, green meadows and fields. Not going anywhere, just enjoying the green, the heady sense of life. Those dreams had been as restorative as the sleep at night and the delight during the day of watching the ship dance with the sea.

But the quiet time was over. Her dark horse and the horses of the two Fae escorts Padrick had insisted go with her were already being led to a nearby inn where they would be saddled and waiting. She’d have a light meal with Padrick because he’d also insisted on seeing her fed before she began her journey, and then she’d be heading up the nearest shining road to race through the Clan territories to reach the Mother’s Hills and travel through them to Willowsbrook, where the Hunter waited.

Padrick gestured to his right. “The inn is this—”

“Baron Padrick! Baron!”

Padrick stopped, turned toward the Fae Lord striding toward him.