The next morning, I staggered down to coffee. As I poured, I wondered how many days it would take before I became an official addict.

I sipped, made a face, and picked up the sugar container.

Who was I kidding? I already had an addiction—just not to coffee.

“Thank you, Igor,” I grumbled as I walked over to the kitchen island.

His back was to me, and he didn’t turn around. “For what?”

“Sugar.”

“I neither grew it, nor processed it.”

“You moved it.”

“I transferred it into an easy-pour container because you don’t seem to notice how much you go slopping around the counters until after your first cup of coffee. A spoon was too much for you.”

“It’s such a delight to see your cheerful face each morning.”

“See? You’re blind.”

“Breakfast?”

“The croissants have to finish baking.”

“Ooh! Is anyone else up, or do I get all of them?”

“Conrad is out in the yard.” Igor nodded toward the French doors at the back of the room. “You can try to take his share, but I wouldn’t advise it.”

“Hmmmm.” I slid off my stool and headed toward the doors, coffee in hand. “I wonder if I can talk him out of it.”

“Tell him they’ll be ready in five minutes.”

As soon as I was outside, the cold morning air bit through the shirt I was wearing. It was supposed to be a mild October day, but “mild” had been defined by someone who owned a jacket. I curled around my warm mug and followed the sound of raking until I found the wolfman near the stone wall.

“Hey, Conrad! Can I have your croissants?”

“Not a chance.” He raised his pale yellow eyes to meet mine. “But good morning.”

He looked cheerful. It was probably all those pastries he was going to enjoy. The greedy butthead.

“Oh, fine,” I grumbled. “Igor says they’ll be ready in five minutes.”

“That’s good timing.” He grabbed a bag and started stuffing leaves.

“Would you like some help?”

“Sure.”

I perched my mug on the wall and went over to hold the bag. The rich smell of the leaves did more to wake me up than the coffee.

As Conrad worked, I said, “Thanks for getting me the blanket last night.”

“No problem. You looked comfortable.” He shoved a few more armfuls into the bag, took it from me, then squashed them flat so we could add more. “So who’s Charlie?” He handed the bag back to me.

His voice had been so normal, the bizarreness of the question didn’t hit me at first. My brain stalled on the words, trying to fit them together like bad puzzle pieces. All the colors were correct, but the shapes were wonky.

I gave up. “Huh?”

“Who’s Charlie? You said his name last night, while you were dozing.”

I blinked. “Oh! That was your fur?”

His work stopped, and he glanced up at me with a furrowed brow and slight smile.

“Yeah.” He returned to his work. “You know a lot of people with fur?”

“But I distinctly remember, I stopped pet—touching your fur.” I hesitated. “Right?”

He pressed down the latest armful of leaves.

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While I tied off the bag, Conrad stood up and folded his arms. “You toss a bit in your sleep.”

My cheeks went bright pink.

Sure. Tossing. That sounded much better than “you recklessly hone in on anything fluffy while unconscious.”

I handed him the bag. The thing was heavy, but he picked it up like it was full of air.

“Charlie was a friend,” I said.

Conrad walked over to the wall and put the bag in a pile with the others. “Were you close?”

My cheeks went from bright pink to fuchsia. “You could say that.” I let out a discreet cough. “He was a therapy dog I used to know.”

Conrad turned. “What?”

I studied the ground like I was taking an advanced course on dead leaves. So fascinating. “A therapy dog. You know—they bring them into the hospital to cheer up sick patients? Charlie was this big ol’ beast of a dog. We used to joke that he was part German shepherd, part bear.”

“And this was your close friend?”

“Well, he was supposed to be friendly with everyone, but, really”—I tapped my chest—“I was his favorite. Sometimes, if he needed a break, his owner would let him hang out in my room, and we’d nap together. He’d toss his head and yank out half my electric leads. Then we’d both get in trouble.”

I stopped. Conrad had bowed his head and looked off to the side. I was watching him, trying to figure out what was going on, when I heard the quiet sound of his peculiar laugh.

He raised his head, and his eyes met mine.

“I’ve been mistaken for a monster a lot of times, but this is the first time I’ve ever been mistaken for a pet.”

With that fatal dose of embarrassment, I decided it would be a good time to die again. I was looking around for somewhere to deposit my unworthy carcass when Conrad handed me another bag.

“Come on. Let’s finish this before we go in for breakfast.”

Right. Fresh-baked croissants. That sounded like a good enough reason to live. I split the top of the bag and whipped it open.

While Conrad was filling it, he said, “You let him sleep on your hospital bed?”

“He was cozy!” All right. Maybe I sounded a bit defensive.

“Do you miss him?”

A murmur of sorrow rolled through me. “Yeah. He was a big comfort to me. It was hard to say goodbye when I transferred to the hospice.”

I thought about my nightmares and how much I wouldn’t mind a little comfort these days.

I felt a hand touch my elbow. It was Conrad. He’d tied off the bag and slung it over his shoulder.

“Croissants you said?”

“Yeah.” I smiled. “Igor’s amazing, isn’t he?”

“Don’t forget your coffee.”

I dodged over to the wall to grab my mug, then I followed Conrad into the kitchen.

All through breakfast, I kept waiting for Darius to show up and drag me away. The threat of it forced me to eat quickly, but since he didn’t show up, it left me with a lot of time to nurse my coffee and regret not savoring my pastry.

“Mera?” Conrad said.

I turned back to the table. “Have you seen Darius this morning?”

It was Igor who answered: “Vasil went out early.”

“He left without me?”

“I would assume so, since he’s gone and you’re still here.”

“Did he say he was going to take you?” Conrad asked.

As a matter of fact, he had not. But I had assumed that was an oversight—which, I realized, was stupid. It wasn’t like Darius couldn’t get along without his hysterical assistant.

But a small part of me was sad that he knew that.

“You need to see Iset,” Igor said.

“Huh?”

“You need to see Iset,” he repeated. “Last night, she told Vasil that she needed you for a few hours this morning”—Igor’s voice rose slightly, to demonstrate that he was quoting—“‘unless your presence was critical.’”

“And Darius didn’t object?”

Wow. That small part of me was really optimistic.

“It was Iset who made the request.”

“Okaaay.” I knew Igor meant something by that, but I had no idea what it could be.

He elaborated, “Weaker men give orders and are sometimes obeyed. Iset makes requests, and all move to heed her.”

I glanced at Conrad. There was a slight smile on his muzzle.

“Is she a queen?” I asked—well, more like prodded, as someone would prod a strange new concept: carefully, and with a long stick.

“She would say no,” Conrad said.

“Huh?”

“You know that bald guy from last night?”

“You mean Saitama? The main character?”

“Yeah. Him. You know how he doesn’t quite get how impressive he is to other people?”

I nodded.

“It’s like that.”

I grinned and scooted toward Conrad. “How did you like the show?”

Conrad shrugged. “I was planning on finishing it.”

“Don’t watch it without me.”

“What?”

“Don’t watch it without me!”

“Haven’t you already seen it?”

“So? Promise me.”

“Sure.”

I skipped up from my chair. Igor was watching me, both eyes almost facing me.

“What have you done to the poor boy?” he said.

“I’ve introduced him to anime!”

Igor shook his head and turned his attention back to the dishes in the sink. “It’s worse than I imagined.” His smaller eye fixed on me. “Emerra, what’s your favorite cake?”

I thought about it. “Is ‘yes, please, all of them’ an option?”

“No.”

“Oh. Then chocolate. Do we get cake today?”

“If all goes well.”

I bounced on my toes and raised both fists in the air. Through my giddy joy, I couldn’t even hear the part of me that felt sorry for myself. I was getting cake!

I went over to the library to present myself to the queen.

Iset looked up when she heard me enter.

“Good morning, Emerra. You look happy.”

“We get cake today.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I’m sorry I had to steal you away from Darius, but there’s one or two practical matters that we should deal with sooner rather than later.”

A sudden slice of nerves stole through me. “What’s that?”

The mummy picked up a blue measuring tape from the other side of her laptop and put it on the desk, close to me.

“Your clothes. We need to at least get a basic wardrobe ordered, along with some warmer clothes for when winter sets in. We don’t have to find them all today, but the sooner we get them ordered, the sooner they’ll arrive.”

My chest churned with a number of emotions. I liked shopping—even online shopping—but I was still uncomfortable with the idea of someone giving me a closet full of new clothes. On the other hand…

“Olivia wants her clothes back, doesn’t she?” I said.

“I think the more relevant question is, do you really want to keep wearing them?”

Her majesty had a darn good point.