I patted his neck, and the sick feeling faded and everything was normal again. “I’m okay, boy,” I assured the dog, who gazed up at me with worried brown eyes. “Working too hard, I guess. Come on, I bet Razor is waiting for his daily game of catch-me-if-you-can.”

We slipped into the hallway of the palace, where I was instantly trailed by several gremlins, tiny Iron fey that lived for trouble and chaos. They laughed and skittered around me, climbing walls and hanging from the ceiling, taunting poor Beau, until we reached the doors that led to the gardens surrounding the palace. As soon as I opened the doors, the gremlins shot through, buzzing challenges, and Beau took off after them, barking like mad. I rolled my eyes and shut the door as quiet returned to the Iron palace, if only temporarily. I couldn’t help but smile as I headed back to my chambers, nodding at the Iron knights who bowed as I passed. This was my life now, crazy and weird and strange and magical, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

* * *

As soon as I wandered back into the bedroom, my gaze strayed to the large bed along the wall and the lump beneath the covers. Pale light streamed through the half-open curtains, settling around the still-sleeping form of a Winter sidhe. Or a former Winter sidhe. Pausing in the door frame, I took advantage of the serene moment just to watch him, a tiny flutter going through my stomach. Sometimes, it was still hard to believe that he was here, that this wasn’t a dream or a mirage or a figment of my imagination. That he was mine forever: my husband, my knight.

My faery with a soul.

He lay on his stomach, arms beneath the pillow, breathing peacefully, his dark hair falling over his eyes. The covers had slipped off his lean, muscular shoulders, and the early-morning rays caressed his pale skin. Normally, I didn’t get to watch him sleep; he was usually up before me, in the courtyard sparring with Glitch or just prowling the halls of the castle. In the early days of our marriage, especially, I’d wake up in the middle of the night to find him gone, the hyperawareness of his warrior days making it impossible for him to stay in one place, even to sleep. He’d grown up in the Unseelie Court, where you had to watch your back every second of every day, and centuries of fey survival could not be forgotten so easily. That paranoia would never really fade, but he was gradually starting to relax now, to the point where sometimes, though not often, I would wake with him still beside me, his arm curled around my waist.