Master of Smoke

her cheeks heated, I’m going to bite him myself.
    Gwen sighed. “Tris, must you be so bloody rude?”
    “Apparently,” Belle growled. “I’ve been working with him for days, and he seems to treat being a jackass as performance art.”
    “Critique my manners later,” Tristan retorted. “I need to either put Smoke down or turn him back into a cat.”
    “Come on then,” Gwen said, and turned to lead the way down a short foyer and up the stairs. “Though I would suggest that if you’d hit the gym more often, you might not have that problem.”
    Tristan shot her a glare. “You want to carry him?” He shrugged as if to transfer David’s solid weight to the blonde’s delicate shoulders.
    “Fine.” Gwen made a swift, sharp gesture, and David levitated off Tristan’s shoulder. A flood of sparks spiraled around him as if forming a cradle for his big body, and he floated upward in the witch’s serene wake.
    “Show-off,” Tristan grumbled.
    Belle laughed at him. “She certainly showed you.”
    “ ‘People come and go so quickly here ...’” Eva muttered, quoting The Wizard of Oz as she followed Tristan and Belle up the winding stairway.
    The woman really didn’t look anything like Queen Guinevere ought to look. Blond and pretty, yes, but not the kind of Helen-of-Troy-gorgeous Eva would have expected. Her delicate oval face was more wholesome than femme fatale, as if she spent her time driving the kids back and forth between Little League games and piano recitals. She sure as hell didn’t look like a fifteen-hundred-year-old witch.
    “This should do.” Gwen floated David through a door at the top of the stairs into what proved to be a guest room. It was homey and well appointed, with tapestries on the walls and gleaming mahogany furniture.
    She sailed David to the huge bed that dominated the room, its thick hunter green comforter flipping aside without anyone’s touching it. The witch gestured, and the flood of sparks settled David’s sleeping form on the fine cream sheets.
    Automatically, Eva stepped forward to cover him with the comforter. She looked up from smoothing the fabric over his broad chest to find all three Magekind studying her with lifted brows.
    It felt as if her cheeks burst into flame.
    “See what I mean?” Tristan said to Gwen, his tone a trifle smug.
    “Good for you,” Gwen told Eva.
    Before Eva could think of anything to say, a dark-haired man wandered in. He wasn’t particularly tall, but he was as broad and powerfully built as a professional athlete. He wore his hair down to his brawny shoulders, and a beard framed his handsome mouth and square chin in a dark goatee. “I see you found the cat. Good work.” He slapped Tristan’s back, which clanked as he gave them all a broad smile. “I imagine you’d like dinner. Come on down and eat.”
    This, Eva realized numbly, had to be Arthur Pendragon, a suspicion that was confirmed when Gwen introduced them as they walked back down the hall.
    “Thanks for taking care of Smoke,” Arthur said, shaking Eva’s hand. “He means a lot to us.”
    “He means a lot to her, too.”
    “Shut up, Tris,” Belle told him.

    The Pendragons escorted their guests to the family dining room, where Arthur and Tristan drank a goblet or two of witch-donated blood—eeew—while Eva, Belle, and Gwen ate thick rib eye steaks, baked potatoes, and tender green asparagus with hollandaise sauce.
    Meanwhile Belle and Tristan briefed the couple on the fight with Warlock.
    “We’re going to have to do something about that bastard,” Arthur said grimly.
    “Yeah, but it won’t be easy.” Tristan shook his head. “And it’ll probably be bloody. The rest of the wolves are going to be pissed.”
    “Too damned bad,” Arthur said, with such a cold, ruthless gleam in his eyes that Eva could suddenly believe he’d once been High King of England.

    After dinner, Eva excused herself to slip upstairs and check on David.
    It didn’t look as if he’d twitched so much as a muscle since they’d gone downstairs. His broad shoulders seemed to take up half the bed, and his tanned skin looked dark against the pale sheets. Eva sat down next to him with an exhausted sigh. “Well,” she said softly, “it’s been one hell of a day.”
    “Apparently.”
    Eva looked up to see Guinevere leaning on the door frame watching her. The ex-queen’s gaze was so interested, it quickly drove Fluffy a little nuts. “Do I have spinach on my teeth, Your