Kosandion finally turned his head and looked at her. “I am glad you are well.”

She looked back at him. “No need to get all solemn about it, my dear. Don’t forget, I have seen you in swaddling clothes. Not only am I doing well, but you still seem to require my aid.”

Kosandion bowed. “Thank you for Surkar.”

“It was a small thing. Don’t bend your head. You are the Sovereign.”

“And you will always be the Empress.”

Her Grace snorted. “The empress of what? I left those fools with a strong nation that functioned like a well-oiled machine. In less than a decade, they managed to fracture it into three puny kingdoms, one of which came to you begging to be taken in.”

“In fairness, they brought us wonderful mineral wealth,” Kosandion said, his eyes hiding a smile.

“I don’t mind that you helped yourself—galaxy knows somebody should have saved them from themselves—but I don’t understand why you left the other two unattended. You should convince them to join you, my dear, by whatever means are necessary. Frame it as a rescue of the Dominion’s dear brothers and sisters. It would help your image and give the military something to do before they get antsy and start dreaming up a coup. Nothing ventured, nothing gained…”

Two kids came down the path and stopped. A girl around fifteen or so and a boy a couple of years younger. Caldenia saw them and fell silent.

“They know,” Kosandion said softly.

She didn’t answer him.

“Would you like to say hello, aunt?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

Kosandion offered her his arm and led the Empress to meet her niece and nephew. I stayed where I was, giving them the privacy they needed.

Nobody was in danger here.

24

When we last left the warm embrace of Gertrude Hunt, Sean departed to put out the latest Dushegub fire and Kosandion and Caldenia had a lovely chat. But the spousal selection marches on, and now Kosandion must date. Mandatory flirting. Ah, the lives of galactic rulers. So eventful. So busy. So tragic.

But life goes on. Let’s check in and see what is happening.

I dragged my hand over my face. “Sean is a werewolf. He is new to this whole innkeeper thing. But you are like me. You were born into this business. You know better.”

Tony didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic. “They are uninjured. No harm is being done to them. They just can’t move.”

On our back lawn, hidden from view by the house, five Dushegubs stood frozen in weird poses, arranged in a picturesque manner. They must have really pissed Sean off because he got Tony to freeze them in place.

“Harm doesn’t have to be physical. It can also be emotional.”

“Dushegubs don’t have emotions. Besides, I think this looks festive. Just view them as holiday decorations.”

“For which holiday?”