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... fore the gate, and Tristan smiled.

That had worked out better than he’d hoped it might. The invitation to join her crew had come as a surprise to him – and to her as well, he suspected – but it told him his instincts had been correct. Tredegar liked for people to be good and bad, with little room in between, so now that he was not strictly bad her opinion of him was leaning the other way.

“That was nice of you,” Fortuna mused, chin resting on his shoulder as she held him tight. < ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

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