Master of Smoke

she’d ever seen spilled across the velvety darkness in alien constellations, and the moon rode three perfect little clouds edged in silver and blue.
    There was a feeling in the air, an intoxicating buzz that seemed to call the magic in her. Eva could feel it reverberating in her bones and her muscles like a deep, thrumming chime. It made her want to transform, to spill into her wolf and race the moon across the night.
    A smile spread helplessly across her face.
    “Don’t just stand there grinning,” Tristan said over his shoulder as he strode after Belle. “Come on. Arthur’s waiting for us.”
    That woke her up. “Ummm—Arthur? King Arthur?”
    “Don’t call him that,” Tristan told her impatiently. “He’s not a king anymore, and he hates it when people use that title. He’s Liege of the Magi.”
    “Okay.” She hustled after them, emerging from the little orchard that was apparently some kind of park.
    “Holy God, it’s Disney World,” Eva muttered, barely resisting the urge to stop and gape again. Tristan would probably smack her, and then Fluffy would have to eat him.
    I’ll leave that to Belle, Fluffy said. She likes him one hell of a lot better than I do.
    Scottish castles, grim gothic towers, French chвteaus, Italian villas—you name an architectural style, and somebody had built it along the cobblestone streets. Yet somehow it all fit together, gleaming under the moon, surrounded by rolling green lawns and flowering trees and topiary shaped like knights and dragons.
    “Some of the younger witches get a little carried away,” Belle explained with an indulgent little smile. She’d dropped back to watch Eva gape like a tourist. “Everything here was built from magic. The more elaborate the structure, the more powerful the witch who created it.”
    “It’s ostentatious,” Tristan growled. “Not to mention a waste of power.”
    “But good practice,” Belle pointed out. “Once you learn to manipulate and stabilize magic on such a scale, you can put it to good use in combat.”
    “Either way ... Wow.” Eva blinked as a tiny glowing figure zipped by, gossamer wings a blur. “Was that a—?”
    “Fairy? Yep. Probably a courier carrying documents to the Sidhe kingdom.” Belle nodded toward a three-story stone house surrounded by great mounds of blooming white rose-bushes. A single massive oak tree presided over the house, its great branches spread wide. “And there’s Pendragon House. Come, child. It’s not every day you meet a legend.”
    Eva’s brows shot up as she followed her new allies up the stone walk. “Arthur lives here?”
    “Expecting Camelot?” Tristan sent her a sneer. “Castles are drafty as hell, miserably cold in the winter, and you need a staff of a hundred to run one. Those of us with nothing to prove go for comfort over ostentation every time.” He paused. “Except for Morgana and that palace of hers. She always did have to outdo everybody.”
    “Or maybe she just loves beauty.” Belle stepped up on the stone porch to knock on the polished oak door.
    It promptly swung wide to reveal a soccer mom, the kind of slim, delicate blonde that always made Eva feel like a moose. She wore a peach polo shirt and dark blue skinny jeans, with white Nikes on her dainty feet. Actual Nikes, like she shopped at Target. “Arthur, they’re here!” She grabbed Belle’s hands and kissed her on both cheeks. “Gods, I’m glad to see you.” Soccer Mom turned a dazzling smile on Eva. “All of you.”
    Belle walked into the blonde’s arms for a quick hug before stepping back and beginning the introductions. “Gwen, this is Eva Roman, who sheltered Smoke when he lost his memory.” She turned to Eva, one arm still around the woman’s narrow waist. “Eva, this is Guinevere Pendragon.”
    Eva had deduced as much, so she managed to shake Gwen’s hand and greet her without swallowing her tongue. “It’s an honor, Your Majesty.”
    “Oh, please.” The blonde swept her into a warm hug. “I haven’t been a queen since before the Norman Conquest. Call me Gwen like everyone else.”
    “I hate to interrupt the love fest, but can you point me somewhere I can put Smoke?” Tristan curled a lip. “He could stand to lose a few pounds.”
    “Hey!” Eva turned on him, indignant. There wasn’t an ounce of fat anywhere on David’s solid muscle, and she should know. Jerk, said Fluffy. Let me bite him.
    “She’s in love.” Tristan rolled his eyes.
    Hell, Eva thought, as