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I laughed. “They did not.”

“They certainly did. And let me tell you, I think the only reason they let me go is the fact they didn’t have a rotisserie big enough.”

I laughed again, and he continued to regale me with his nonsensical stories as we made our way out of the forest and headed for the hospital.

The tavern’s old timbers told me Sgott was on his way up the stairs. I pulled another mug from the hooks lining the bottom of the overhead cupboards and added a few more strips of bacon to the pan. Even if he didn’t want them, they wouldn’t go astray. The force of the storm inhabiting my body seemed to have increased my appetite three-fold, and I was just hoping all this food was being burned off by whatever fury still lingered within rather than going straight to my hips.

Although when I’d complained to Eljin about it last night, he’d simply laughed and said it would just give him a better grip. And proceeded to show me just how delightful such a grip could be when we were both naked and I was riding him.

“Would you like a bacon butty?” I said as Sgott entered the room.

“Aye, that would be lovely.”

The tiredness in his voice had me looking around. “Bad night?”

He grimaced. “Had its high points and lows.”

“Was one of the high points Halak’s incarceration?”

An expedited, closed court trial had been requested, and given the dire nature of the crimes he’d been charged with, not to mention the pressure being placed on the system for a quick resolution, the hearing had gotten underway yesterday. The IIT had been confident that, with the evidence they’d gathered and the confessions I’d recorded, it was basically an open-and-shut case, but I wasn’t about to count my chickens until the results were in.

Sgott nodded. “He got life imprisonment, in a cell especially designed for magical killers such as him. He’ll spend his life in solitary confinement, his only link to the outside world a TV and the slot through which his food comes.”

“Good.” I made up his butty, handed it to him, then popped more bread into the toaster for mine. “And the bad?”

“Ah, well.” He leaned a hip against the counter and bit into his sandwich. Deciding what to say, I thought. Or, perhaps, how to say it.

I frowned at him. “Are they going to charge me for Mkalkee’s death?”

“What? Gods no. That was justified, no question about it. Besides, a number of high-profile councilors came to headquarters on your behalf, stating your actions were a direct result of being in their employ, so if you were being charged they had best charge them too.”

“The law doesn’t exactly work like that,” I said wryly, but was nevertheless pleased—and more than a little surprised—by their support.

Of course, I was currently their only hope of finding the missing hoard, and that no doubt played a big part in their actions.

“The law,” Sgott said, his voice grave but amusement creasing the corners of his eyes, “can sometimes be mighty pliable when it needs be. Or when high-profile people apply enough pressure.”

My toast popped; I plucked it free and slathered butter all over it. “That’s a very cynical sort of statement coming from a man renowned for following the rules.”

“More so than Ruadhán, for sure, but we’re both aware that I’ll bend a rule or two if needs must. You, my dear woman, have been the cause of a few such bendings.”

I grinned. “Sorry about that.”

He waved a hand. “If I was at all concerned we were stepping too far beyond the spirit of the rules, it would not happen.”

I knew that. I heaped bacon onto my toast, then dropped the pan into the sink. “So, what is the bad news you seem totally intent on avoiding?”

“It involves Cynwrig.”

“Ah, Mr. Suddenly Elusive.”

“With good reason, I’m afraid.”

I saw the seriousness in his eyes, and my stomach twisted. “What’s happened? Is he okay? Is his sister?”

“Yes, and yes.”

I studied him for a long moment, the twisting in my stomach getting stronger. “It’s his father, isn’t it?”