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"You forgot more coffee," Aideen said.

"I was getting there."

13

Iwoke up sore in places I hadn't known could get sore, which was really saying something after four months of Kai throwing me face-first into a swamp on a near-daily basis. There was combat-training sore, and then there was an entirely different, considerably more satisfying kind of sore. My whole body seemed determined to remind me of the difference with every single movement.

Kai was still dead asleep beside me, sprawled across most of the bed– where he’d insisted on hobbling the night before– in that boneless, fully unconscious way that only happened when Maeve had threatened, in no uncertain terms, to personally sedate him if he so much as thought about getting up before noon. One arm was flung over his eyes against the morning light. The other hand, bandaged and resting on his bare chest, twitched every so often like even his dreams hadn't quite settled down yet. I watched him breathe for a solid minute before I made myself get up, just to prove that I could.

I eased out from under the quilt, careful of stitches, bruises, and one very unhappy ankle. I grabbed Kai’s discarded T-shirt off the floor because it smelled like him and I wasn't above that kind of comfort this morning. Then, I padded barefoot down the hall into the kitchen.

The house was quiet in that particular early-morning way. It had been earned instead of ominous. No screaming journal. No frantic dogs. Just soft yellow light coming through the window over the sink, and the low, contented snoring of four very tired animals piled together in their beds by the fireplace, worn clean out from a night of saving the world right alongside the rest of us.

WOW! I really had saved the world. Claimed an ancient Dragon Queen crown. Survived a trip Below. Made love to my Mate on the couch while he was held together with stitches and pure stubbornness.

Naturally, I needed coffee… Lots of coffee.

I filled the glass pot with water and poured it into the back of my drip coffeemaker. Then I ground the beans. It felt cathartic, cleansing, comforting, to go through every single ordinary motion of my normal morning ritual and let myself enjoy every second of how boring it all was.

Boring was good. Boring meant nobody was currently trying to kill me… or anyone I loved.

The crown was exactly where I'd left it, propped against the sugar bowl, gold and quiet in the early light, looking for all the world like it had simply always belonged there, right between the fruit bowl and the napkin holder. I poured myself a big mug of java, leaned against the counter in Kai's borrowed shirt, my hair a disaster and my whole body one long, satisfied ache, and stared at it while it did absolutely nothing but sit there, ancient and important.

It stared back. Metaphorically, obviously. Crowns didn't have eyes. Mostly I was just staring at a very fancy hat and hoping it appreciated the effort I'd gone to for it, given that the effort in question had involved a swamp, a tomb, an entire other Realm, and losing count of how many times I'd nearly lost the man currently snoring in my bed– whom I loved with all my heart.

"You and me," I told it, out loud, to an empty kitchen, "are gonna have a whole conversation eventually. Not today. But eventually."

The crown, predictably, did not respond. I took that as agreement.

That's when I smelled it.

Vanilla, and something underneath that I could only describe as stardust, sweet and impossible and entirely too pleased with itself, filled my senses. I knew exactly who'd decided to make herself at home in my kitchen at– I checked the clock– seven in the morning.

I closed my eyes. "No."

"Good morning to you, too."

I turned around, and there she was. Rainbow curls spilling over one shoulder, fatigues that looked like they'd been through several wars and come out looking better for it, combat boots that made mine look like they belonged in a doll's closet, and silver eyes that missed absolutely nothing.

Oh, and I almost forgot: skin as dark as night and just as gorgeous, and boobs that I just knew made the angels weep. She was a looker, also a pain in my ass, but incredibly beautiful.

There she was, Fate, looking entirely too proud of herself, standing in my kitchen at seven in the morning like she'd been invited.

I held up my mug. "You have exactly until this coffee gets cold to give me the 411 and hit the streets."

She glanced at it. "That's not much time."

"Then talk fast."

She didn't look offended. If anything, she looked like she'd expected exactly that welcome and had come prepared to earn better. "You did something no Queen before you managed," she said. "You chose the crown without surrendering yourself to it."

"Yeah. Funny how much easier destiny gets when everybody stops lying about it."

That landed. I watched her actually wince, and I let myself enjoy it for exactly as long as it lasted, because I had earned that.

Because here was the thing I still needed to say out loud, to her specifically, and I wasn't about to let the moment slide by on good manners just because she'd shown up smelling nice and looking pleased with herself.

"For months," I said, "everybody knew pieces of what was happening. You knew more than you said. Barney knew more than he said, half the time without even realizing it. The Powers That Be moved my wedding to some random date a year out, like my life was a scheduling conflict they could shuffle around. Then I spent four months getting thrown into a swamp while my Mate trained me within an inch of my life, and every damn decision got made ‘for my protection.'"