“I’ll help you.”

Here goes, she thought, and sucked in a breath.

“I don’t want you to help me. I want you to do it. I want to hire you as my social media manager or personal publicist or liaison to the internet—whatever the hell you want to call it.”

“I’ll set you up, Breen. I’m not taking your money for it.”

“Now, wait and hear me out.”

“Not taking your money,” he said in a mutter.

“Listen. First, this is a real job. It’s not like I can give you benefits or anything, but it’s a real job. You’d have to coordinate with my publisher—so I don’t have to. You may have to go to New York and meet with some of the publicity people. You’d have to design the website, then maintain it—so I don’t have to. Then the whole social media thing. You’d go on all that as you; we don’t want to be dishonest. But you’d be speaking for me, and promoting my book.

“There’s more,” she added. “I made notes because it’s just a lot. A lot of things I don’t want to do for more than one reason. I wouldn’t be very good at it; it would take a lot of time I don’t want to take. And if you won’t do it, I’ll have to hire somebody else. Somebody I don’t know, who doesn’t know me.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it, Breen. I said I’m not taking your money to do it.”

“Not finished.” She shifted, gave him a long, hard stare. He gave one right back. “I hired an accountant.”

“Wow. Where’d you get those fancy pants? When did that happen?”

“A couple days ago. I went in, met with Mr. Ellsworth—the broker? And he recommended a couple firms, so I met with people in both of them. I don’t like the damn meetings, Marco, but I have to get things set up properly.”

“Fuckin’ A,” he said, and tapped his bottle to hers.

“The on-signing payment’s not huge, but it’s substantial. Way more than I ever expected to make doing what I want to do. I used it—with their advice—to set up a business account, and both the broker and the accountant said it would be smart—from a business standpoint and a tax standpoint—to hire someone to do all this stuff I don’t want to do. They both offered to help me find someone, but I said I had someone. It’s a business expense, and one that benefits me. Everything I’ve said so far benefits me.”

She drank some beer, and knew when he remained silent he was at least thinking.

“It benefits you, too—not just the salary we’d work out. You love working at Sally’s, and this wouldn’t have to change that. But you don’t love working at the music store. I’m not asking you to work three jobs, but to work with me instead of the music store. That’s just a stopgap for you, something to pay the bills. You like teaching, but the rest of it’s just the bills. You could take students right here if you wanted to teach. Or go to them. Teach guitar and piano, violin, but here, or there.”

She gripped his hand. “I don’t want to hire somebody I don’t know, somebody who doesn’t understand me, and I have to explain everything to. You don’t want to keep selling trumpets and sheet music, barely squeezing in time to write your own. We’d help each other, that’s what we do. And we’d both win.”

“It doesn’t seem right.”

“Because you’re thinking of me as a friend and not a professional. I’m both now.”

He tapped a finger at her. “That’s a good one. You didn’t used to be so good at winning an argument.”

She sat where she was as he pushed up and paced. “Did I win this one?”

“How about this? I’ll mock-up a website. If you like it, your publisher likes it, we’ll go ahead with the whole thing.”

She nodded, somber, sober, then set her beer down and rose to walk to him. “I’ve got only one thing to say.”

“What’s that?”

“Yay!” She grabbed him in a hug, bopped with it. “Oh God! Social media, internet weight, whooshed away! I can’t tell you how relieved I am.”

“Let’s see if it works first.”

“Oh, it’s going to work. Just think, Marco, both of us will be able to quit jobs we don’t want in the same year.” She shut her eyes. “It’s like fate.”

And fate, she thought, was the next on her list to deal with.

Keegan dealt with his own fate as he rode into the Capital with Mahon. They’d spent more than two weeks on the journey as they’d crisscrossed Talamh, on horseback, on dragon or wing to check security. And had left small groups of soldiers along the way to ensure it, and to help where necessary with upcoming harvests, repairs, whatever was needed.

What he’d seen in the hills, in the valleys, on the coastlines, in the villages and the farms had been peace and bounty. But what he’d felt had been a low hum of anxiety.

Trouble brewed, and the air of Talamh carried its worry.

When he rode through the gates with Mahon, he saw the busy, bustling shops that bartered wares and crafts. The herbalists, the alchemists, the healers, and the weavers, and all who chose to offer their skills and services and chose to live and work in the shadow of the castle on the rise.

Music piped from the pubs. He smelled stew on the simmer, the spice of meat pies, the yeast of ale that spilled out of open windows and doorways under thatched roofs of buildings tucked too close together for what he considered comfort.

And aye, he knew some found comfort in just that.

The road, dry as the rain kept itself to the west, ran straight. And since it showed no muck from horses, dogs, livestock, he knew the committee that serviced the road remained vigilant.

A thatcher and his apprentice stopped their repairs to lift caps at him. A few stepped out of shops to do the same.

Around one of the five wells that serviced the Capital he saw a group of people with their pails and pitchers. A boy of about ten set his pail down to run to Keegan.

“Did you bring your dragon, Taoiseach?”

Bran was his name, Keegan thought, one of Morena’s nephews. Keegan simply pointed up.

Bran’s face went bright with delight as he saw Cróga glide overhead. Then the boy spread his wings to fly up for a closer look.

Roads veered off, right and left—to woodsmiths, blacksmiths, and stables, to homes, to dovecotes, coops for chickens, a second well, schools, one in each direction, before it climbed the rise.

The green climbed as well, gently at first, where some worked the gardens and would take what they needed for their labor. Sheep and cattle grazed, and beyond them wheat waved gold, waiting to be harvested and threshed at the mill.

Above all, the castle spread, in stone of a hundred shades of gray weathered by time and rain and sun. Its battlements marched, its towers and turrets speared into a sky of heartbreaking blue, where his dragon flew.

Atop the highest tower another dragon flew on a banner, red against the white field, with a sword in one claw, a staff in the other.

They didn’t loom, Keegan thought, but watched, castle and dragon, over all who lived and worked below, over the whole of Talamh.

And so must he.

They rode through the next gate—a defense he hoped never to use—and over the stone bridge where the river wound below.

And here, a fountain for beauty and the flowers that ringed it. To the north, the deep woods for game, for ritual, for lovers’ trysts and childhood games.

They circled around toward the stables, the falconry, and the wall that faced the cliffs down to the great sea.

A man he knew stood outside the stables, his cap in hand to show respect. “Word spread of your arrival. I’ll see to your horses.”

“With my thanks, Devlin, as this one’s had us riding since dawn.” Mahon dismounted. “And my arse feels it.”

“And now you’ll have ale,” Keegan reminded him, and handed the reins to Devlin. “And how does your wife fare?” he asked. “She must be near her time.”

“Her time came a week ago this day, and we have a daughter. Both are well, thank the gods.”

“Bright blessings on your daughter, her mother, and you, Devlin. What have you named her?”

“She is Cara, Taoiseach, as she is dear to us.”

“A fine name. Wait.” Keegan dug into his saddlebag, took out the beryl he’d picked up when visiting the troll mines only the day before. “A gift for the new life you brought to Talamh.”

“Thank you. She will come to treasure it.”

Keegan hefted his saddlebag onto his shoulder. “Who would think when we ran the fields and the woods that one day you’d have a daughter, and this one two sons and another child coming.”

“Who would think,” Mahon said with the ease of friendship, “that when we three and more went into the lake, this one would rise as taoiseach?”

“I’d rather the lady and the child,” Devlin said with a grin.

“As would I,” Mahon agreed.

Mahon took his own bag, then clapped Keegan’s shoulder as they took the path to the castle. “I’m for that ale and a scrub. I expect you’ll want the same. And while my woman’s far to the west, you’ll be wrapped in Shana’s welcoming arms.”

“I think no, I won’t be. I’ve much else to do.”

Mahon shot him a look. “Because you think of the redheaded witch?”

“Because I can’t take time for distractions.”

“We’re too much friends for that.”

Keegan paused while they were still far enough away from listening ears. “It strikes me I’ve ignored, more pretended not to know, Shana wants more from me than I’d ever give. Her father is a good man, and on the council. Perhaps he wishes for the same. It’s time she looks to another for what she wants.”

“She beds others, as do you,” Mahon pointed out. “I took you as bedmates and no more.”