Page 20 of A Bear in a Birdbath

“I can do it.”

Margo had been quiet throughout their conversation, but Bruno did not assume for a moment that she wasn’t listening in, thinking and worrying just as much as he was.

“How?” he asked.

“How what?” Tobias wanted to know.

“Hang on.” Bruno missed the kind of phone where he could cover the receiver. He wasn’t even sure where the receiver was on his cellphone. He smothered the whole thing in his hand.

“It is a common misconception that trolls guard bridges,” Margo said gruffly. “But actually, trolls are bridges. Show me the gate, and I can get through it.”

Bruno wished that he had the margin to explain how impressive that was. Margo was a whole lot of woman, and he would have been in awe of her even if she wasn’t his mate.

She hugs well, his cave bear agreed, his priorities clearly in one place.

“Who’s that?” Tobias wanted to know as Bruno uncovered the phone. “The other perp who trashed Frank’s office? The one you said fell on you in the tub? She’s the one who is your mate, too? Bruno, you dog!”

Bruno could only shrug and look adoringly at his mate. She was absolutely wondrous in every way.

18

EVA

Eva knew before her eyes opened that she was back in Faery, and her heart had further to fall than ever.

Why had she let herself hope for happiness? She’d known that this would happen, that the Queen was jealous and petty and would want her back the instant she found joy.

For a brief moment, the memory of that bliss bolstered her again. Margo. Sweet, strong Margo, who had always loved her and never spoken of it. Bruno. Growly, charismatic Bruno who stole her heart and set her on fire with his first glance.

Her mates.

They loved her.

“I know you are awake.”

The Queen’s voice made the scars on Eva’s back twitch in pain.

“My Queen,” she said, opening her eyes and sitting up. Faery was as bright as ever, the summer day like a punch in the face after the cozy winter of home. Wisteria in rainbow hues hung from the open rafters, and glistening birds the size of thumbnails darted in and out of the room.

Eva was unsurprised to find a cuff on her ankle, linked to a fine golden chain. The Queen held the other end of it, toying with it and swinging the end in a mesmerizing arc.

Eva was not the slightest bit enthralled, she was amazed to find. She had been afraid that she would fall at the Queen’s feet at the first sight of her, begging her to allow Eva to return and restore her place at her side, but she felt only annoyed.

“Your magic is back,” the Queen observed, stringing the fine chain between her fingers. “Or some small portion of it, at least.”

Eva could not keep herself from reaching back, hoping and fearing and craving the feel of her wings again. Only scarred skin met her fingers.

Faery magic was fickle and variable, sometimes a sweeping power, sometimes a specific gift or talent, and sometimes, like now, a tiny spark that Eva recognized beneath her breastbone. It was the faintest echo of what she’d had before. She might be able to spin a basic illusion, maybe secure a few stitches in physical cloth. She could certainly not fly, or fight her way free of the delicate chain at her ankle.

“Eva…darling…”

The Queen’s voice was thick with her own great magic, and Eva could feel it coiling around her, grasping and caressing…and finding no purchase.

They blinked at each other and Eva saw something in the Queen’s eyes that she’d never seen there before: uncertainty.

Eva didn’t have to reach for her, didn’t have to worship her. She looked into those gem-green eyes and didn’t feel adoring despair, only pity. The Queen didn’t know what love really was, only devotion, and she didn’t know how to have that without coercion. “I’m so sorry,” she blurted.

“For leaving me? For breaking my heart and cleaving a hole in Faery itself?”

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