8
One Week Later
We’re still in our little honeymoon tent. Tempest and I take turns conjuring up meals. No one bothers us. Between bouts of love making, we discuss all sorts of things. Our childhoods. Favorite spells. Plans for healing Furonium after the nightmare of Chimera.
Eventually, the conversation returns to the fact that—much as we both love this little tent—it really isn’t a long-term home. We finished touring our six official residences. Sadly, I hate them all. Maybe that makes me a prima donna. Six whole castles and I can’t choose one?
All of which brings me to the present moment. I’m under the covers and curled up against Tempest’s side. His heavy arm loops behind my shoulders, where he idly plays with my hair.
“What do you think, luv?” he asks. There’s no question the top
