Page 146 of Destined Dawn

“Renzo said something about cooking.”

“Jeez,” Tristan says, combing his fingers through his hair and yawning. “I was hoping for takeout. Today’s round of negotiations have done me in.”

“And there’s never enough food,”Spencer whines. “Seven hours of peace talks and only a measly sandwich for lunch.”

“There was plenty of food,” Rhi says, pulling off her boots. “You just have big appetites.”

The four of us grin at her, all thinking about what we definitely do have big appetites for.

She rolls her eyes at us, and trots down the hallway, calling as she does: “We’re home!”

Immediately, Renzo comes crashing out of the kitchen, his hands encased in oven mitts, a striped apron tied around his waist and what looks like flour in his hair.

I do a double-take. It’s been six months and I’m still getting used to the assassin looking so domestic. He has a talent and enjoyment for potion-brewing – in fact, along with Rhi, it seems to have replaced his compulsion for killing. Unfortunately for us, he seems to think if he’s good at potions, he should be good at cooking. That hasn’t proven to be the case, but Rhi’s forcing us to eat all his concoctions with a smile on our faces regardless. Even if the last one tasted remarkably like horseshit.

“Hey, little rabbit, I baked cookies. And there’s lasagna in the oven.”

She smiles at him and goes to wrap him in a kiss.

I shake my head and pinch my thigh, hard. I have quite a selection of bruises from that action, because it’s still pretty unbelievable how everything has turned out and most days I wonder if I’m dreaming.

Six months ago the republic was under Christopher Kennedy’s reign of terror. Six months ago we were on the run because he wanted us dead. Six months ago we narrowly escaped becoming the permanent Sources for a coven of powerful dark vampires.

Now, we’re living peacefully – well most of the time – atAzlan’s house. It’s probably only temporary. The house isn’t big enough for five men our size but Tristan isn’t keen on claiming his father’s house. In fact, he’d like to knock it down.

Maybe we’ll move out to the countryside. Set up a farm with a bunch of pigs and chickens. Maybe we’ll end up living in the West. They need help out there to re-establish the workings of the city and the wider country now the ones running it are gone.

But for now, we’re needed here for these talks. Things are changing. We’re no longer at war. The threat from the West has gone. The troops stationed at the border have been disbanded and sent home.

Things are changing.

Of course, some people don’t want things to change. There was talk of a new chancellor. A lot of people assumed it would be Rhi – the living embodiment of Queen Æðelflæd, once again taking her crown.

But that’s not Rhi, and she’s argued adamantly for a fairer set-up, even as other candidates were put forward. We’re pushing for a council – one where everyone is represented – weres, magicals, non-magicals alike. Not just the old, rich families.

I tug off my own boots and go to wait patiently while Renzo nuzzles Rhi’s throat.

“I missed you, little rabbit,” he mutters. “These talks are going on forever.”

“Tell me about it,” Spencer says.

“I think we made progress today, though.” Rhi extracts herself from Renzo’s grasp, and taking his hand, leads him into the kitchen. All of us follow, flopping down into chairs around the kitchen table. It’s a squeeze to say the least, my elbows knocking against Tristan’s on one side and Azlan’s onthe other.

In front of us lies a plate of objects that look like they’ve been cremated.

“Are those the cookies?” Tristan asks warily. I guess you never know with Renzo. There’s a good chance he may have been torturing mice today as well as cooking.

“Yep, double chocolate chip,” he says, proudly. “I’ll make us all coffee.”

Azlan jerks upright onto his feet. “I’ll make it.” The last round of coffee Renzo made had us all buzzing for two days straight.

Renzo takes Azlan’s vacated seat and pats his thigh. Obediently – because it’s only me she likes playing the brat for – Rhi settles on his lap and bravely takes the burned-crisp of a cookie. She takes a big bite at it with a grin.

“Delicious,” she says, then glares at us all. We all take one too, nibbling at the edges and murmuring nondescript compliments.

Renzo’s gaze spins round us all and you can see the pride dancing in his mismatched eyes. The dude’s still as mad as a box of frogs, but he’s definitely growing on me. I may even go as far as saying I like his company.

“So what was the breakthrough?” he asks as Azlan places cups of piping hot coffee in front of each of us.