to Astaria, aren’t you? Despite cannibal centaurs, ghost goblins and vengeful kings?”
“I am.” Though Cookie had been gone from this mortal world only a few weeks, everything had changed. For her, at least. Nothing felt right here. Mortal clothing didn’t fit properly. The scents lacked the sweetness she’d grown accustomed to. Her cold mattress reminded her of rocks, sleep impossible. “I want you and Sugars with me. I’ll protect you from the monsters, I promise. And I’ve already picked a boy toy for you. You’ll get to live in a castle, of course.” She would be winning hers back, whoever she had to fight. “You’ll have servants, magical medicine for every disease you’re soon to contract, and—”
“I don’t need the hard sell, hon. Hot fae men? Of course I’m going with you. That isn’t even a question.”
She snorted. “You won’t be sorry.”
“Of course I won’t. I’ll be with you.” Pearl Jean patted her hand. “What about Kaysar?”
“What about him? We’re done. I’m in the process of kicking him out of my heart and hanging a vacancy sign. There’s nothing he can say or do to make this better. So good riddance. Better now than later. I like being single, anyway. His loss, right? There’s plenty of trash in the sea. And I’m not protesting too much, so stop thinking I am.”
“Whatever you say, hon.”
“I’m moving on,” she insisted with a firm nod. Through her example, Kaysar would witness what letting go of a turbulent past and grabbing hold of a bright future looked like. If he chose to war with her, fine. They’d war. She wouldn’t kill him; she didn’t hate him. But she refused to let him hurt her anymore. If she arrived and he suggested they get back together, well, he could go screw himself.
She’d expected his hate, but not his cruelty. He’d banished her from his life—from her home. A crime that came with a lifetime sentence.
“Are you sure you’re moving on? Because you look like you’re going to kill someone. And really, what if the man merely suffers from Redirectile Dysfunction? Think about it. You bombed his lifelong plans, forcing him to navigate a new path. He might just need time to acclimate.”
“I don’t care.” She’d given Kaysar everything, as she’d said she would, risking her own happiness to purchase his. If he couldn’t see that, he wasn’t a man worth knowing, much less missing. “And I’m done discussing him.”
“Fine. Don’t squeeze my head off like you did to those soldiers. Just tell me when we leave, and I’ll be ready.”
She regretted, slightly, telling Pearl Jean every detail about the battle. “Tonight. Eight,” she said with a firm nod. Enough time to do whatever needed doing. She’d been away from home long enough. “I’m not exactly sure what we’ll find on the other side of my door, so we’ll pack only the essentials. Things we can’t live without.”
“Deal.”
They gathered Sugars and headed inside. The rest of the day passed with a flurry of activity. Cookie decided the essentials included snack packs with arrays of donuts, bottles of wine, a pair of yoga pants and Daisy Dukes, cowboy boots and costumes she’d had overnighted. Also food and litter for Sugars, as well as a special backpack with mesh walls for ventilation and a clear panel for his hobby. Spying.
If she required anything else for him, she’d return to the mortal world for it. The farmhouse had just gotten a demotion, from forever home to vacation retreat.
Pearl Jean selected medications for every ailment known to man and probably some that weren’t. A guide for identifying your diseases before they became critical. Yarn and knitting needles. Muumuus for every occasion. A six-pack of beer. And a collection of romance novels they would be sharing.
At 8:07 sharp, they met in the living room. Sugars rested in his pack, secured on her shoulders, and furious to be trapped. The strap of a black duffel bag crossed her chest, the bag itself threatening to topple her with its weight. Worth it.
A new game was starting, her excitement reviving. The (currently) displaced Queen of the Dusklands and her scrappy team had leveled up. The prize? A life of adventure.
“You ready?” she asked Pearl Jean...who sat upon her scooter.
Dark blue eyes lively, she honked the scooter’s horn. “I’ve been ready for years.”
Deep breath in. Cookie anchored a rope around her waist and gave the dangly end to Pearl Jean. She pictured the spot she wished to land and stretched out her arms. As her