He held so still, he wasn’t even breathing. I didn’t think Fate was breathing either, but I wasn’t all that sure gods had to breathe.

  My heart was in a full-out sprint. I was going on hunch alone here, and I hoped I wasn’t setting him up, setting us up for failure.

  Or worse.

  I faced Clotho.

  “Fate,” I said, my tone humble, “as I return this coin to you, may I ask a question for the good of someone else?”

  Clotho’s eyes twinkled, and she nodded. “Yes, Crossroads.”

  “Will asking this question cause harm to Card’s tree? Or to anyone I care about?”

  “No. You are returning our coin that was taken, then gifted. Since it was a gift to you, I will gift to you an answer to your question.”

  Card sucked in a short breath. I thought he was going to pass out if he didn’t start breathing normally.

  There were a lot of things I could ask. So many things I wanted to know. Did Card love me? Should we try a life together? As friends? As lovers?

  Was Stel vowing revenge and about to turn out the Halls of Wizards to kill me?

  What about my friends? Val and his unfixed relationship with the werewolves? Lu and Brogan’s curse to wander Route 66?

  But I knew what this coin should be gifted for.

  “Is Cardamom’s sister still alive and on this earth?”

  Card exhaled like someone had just kicked him in the kidneys.

  Clotho’s smile was brighter than a hundred suns. “Yes, Crossroads. Thistal is alive. On this earth. Rooted and sleeping.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I placed the copper coin into her hand, and she chuckled.

  “I wondered if you would understand the ways of the coin,” she said.

  “We made it too easy,” Atropos grumbled. “There’s too much information out there that the Crossroads could find.”

  Lachesis shook her head. “Very little information exists on the nature of the coins. It has always been that way, and it always will be. I am curious, though, how you knew.”

  “I had allies,” I said, because she had told me I would, even though I hadn’t wanted to listen to her. “Some of whom I do not like. But I let my journey take me forward instead of dwelling on the past.”

  “And did you find gifts?” she asked.

  Card’s fingers on my skin, his laughter as he walked a tree, his singing in my kitchen.

  “Yes.”

  “Good then,” Lachesis said. “Thank you, Crossroads.”

  She turned to Card. “I assume this will be the end of our paths crossing?”

  He swallowed hard. “Yes.” The word was barely a whisper. He sounded like he was light headed. As a matter of fact, he looked a little unsteady on his feet. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank us,” Atropos snapped. “We weren’t pleased with you. Stealing from us.”

  “Thank the Crossroads,” Lachesis said.

  “Yes,” Clotho added, her voice light. “Isn’t this just amazing how it all worked out? We got our coins. You and the Crossroads found time to talk, to maybe find understanding. And I see there is a new connection between you. That’s so nice. Isn’t that nice, Atropos?”

  “Fine,” the eldest growled. “You won the bet. You don’t have to rub it in.”

  She turned and stomped back to the grill, grumbling about twisted threads and the dewy-eyed optimism of youth.

  Clotho laughed, a high, happy burble.

  Lachesis just shook her head. “Well, then. Now that this is done,” she put both hands on Clotho’s shoulders and nudged her toward Atropos, “you can help with the food.”

  Clotho gave a wave over her shoulder and did as Lachesis suggested.

  “Thank you,” I said. “For honoring your word.”

  The matron Fate raised her eyebrows. “It is as it shall be, as it always should have been,” she said cryptically. “Good-bye, Crossroads. Until it may be hello again.”

  I inclined my head and managed not to ask her why gods had to be so damned cryptic too. “Good-bye, Fate.”

  I took a step backward, then realized Card was still standing there, frozen and wobbly.

  “Card,” I said. When he didn’t answer, I tugged on his sleeve. “Let’s leave the generous god to her cookout. You and I can return home.”

  He snapped out of whatever trance he’d been in and gave a very passable bow before turning on his heel and walking beside me.

  His hand reached out for mine, and my fingers locked with his. Our palms squeezed together like a tether in a wild wind as we made our way down the road to the house. Neither of us let go.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The lemonade was cold, and the day was hot. I shaded my eyes and looked over at Card, who sat cross-legged at the bottom of the damn pecan tree.

  We hadn’t talked about the tattoos we shared yet. Hadn’t talked any more about his sister.

  After our encounter with Fate this morning, I thought we both needed to do something that felt normal. So I’d made lemonade and babbled about the shop I needed to get back to building.

  Card had listened and offered to talk to the tree that was growing too close to where I wanted to build the shop. He thought he could convince it to sort of lean the other way until the branches were high enough to clear the roofline.

  Before I’d even had a chance to agree, he’d started walking that way.

  I thought maybe he needed the down time, alone time, green time.

  It was a lot to have been the target of Fate.

  It was a lot to have almost lost his heart tree.

  And it was a lot to find out his sister was still alive, but sleeping, in that deep hibernation into which dryads sometimes lapse.

  I found a spot in the shade and sat on the sawhorse, placing the other glass of lemonade on the board that bridged across to the other sawhorse.

  “So, Fate didn’t kill you,” Val said. He was sitting on the ground, leaning back on his arms, his wolf belly down and asleep next to him.

  “Not sure that was ever on the table.”

  “With a god?”

  “Okay, yeah, it was probably on the table. But, as you can see: not dead.”

  “What about his tree?”

  “Safe, as far as we know. I mean, it’s more at risk from Stel knowing where it is, but he has ways to protect it from her magic.”

  “Good. Good.”

  Time slipped by on the buzz of wings, on the hush of wind, in the stir of leaves. I sipped lemonade and felt the tension that had been knotting my shoulders for the last couple days loosen.

  “What about Card?” Val asked.

  “What about him?”

  “Is he staying? Going?” Val tipped his head, and his gaze was frank. “You don’t like him. Don’t want him around. But he’s got those tattoos...”

  I hummed and swallowed lemonade to give myself a moment to think. Those things weren’t true anymore.

  I did like Card. I did want him around.

  The tattoos though, yes, we needed to talk about that.

  I needed to make a decision: Let the tattoos stay, let the link between our magics, between him and me and the Crossroads remain, or cut those ties now, permanently.

  “We’ll find out,” I said. “As soon as he gets done talking to the tree.”

  “There’s going to be a meeting tonight.”

  “Oh?”

  “The pack. Danube wondered if I’d stop by.”

  “Will you?”

  He tipped his head up, staring at the sky. “I think so.”

  “If you want me to go with you, I will.”

  He smiled, his eyes still on the blue above. “I know. But I’m just going to see what’s up.”

  “And talk to him.”

  “Maybe. A little.”

  “Good.”

  Val stood, and glanced over at Card again. “You okay with him for a bit?”

  “I’m fine. Go. Talk to your brother.”

  “Call me. You know I can be here in an instant.”

  I nodded and made shooing motions with my hand. “I’ll come looking for you if you don’t check in.”

  “Fine. Have fun while I’m gone. But, you know, not too much fun.” He grinned and it was all wolf. Then he blinked out of existence.

  I finished off my lemonade, enjoying the quiet. I was thinking about drinking the glass I’d brought out for Card when the wind picked up, rattling through the branches, and the tree Card sat under bent, fluid and easy, as if pulled gently by the breeze.

  The crown of branches shifted away from the shop space and stayed there. It hadn’t been so much magic that made the tree move this time, just pure dryad persuasion.

  The wind died down. The air settled with heat and moisture again, making the day heavy, drowsy.

  Card finally stood, brushed off his knees and butt, stuck his hands in his back pockets, and strolled my way.

  “The tree understands,” he said. “She’s happy to grow a little more that way so you can build the shop. I promised her you’d hang a wind chime on her branch. She likes the idea of music that isn’t bird music.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Your reward is one slightly tepid glass of lemonade.”

  He grinned and picked up the glass, then downed it in one go.

  “So, what are you going to do next?” I asked. “Continue looking for your sister?”

  He turned and sat on the other sawhorse, staring out at the shop foundation and the trees beyond. “Fate says she’s sleeping. Rooted. If I haven’t been able to feel her or find her yet, I don’t think I’ll be able to find her until she wakes.”

  Both worry and a little bit of hope threaded his words. But he seemed calm, and much more centered than when he’d first shown up on my doorstep just a day ago.

  “Until then?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I’m decent with a hammer and know how to use a saw. I could clean the gutters. Help you install that trapdoor to the basement.”

  “For the bodies?”

  “For the bodies.”

  The quiet between us stretched, making the unspoken question loud: Was he staying? Did he want to build a life here? Would I let him?

  “Let’s talk about the tattoos,” I said.

  “Okay.”

  “The Crossroads doesn’t mind being connected to you. It doesn’t mind knowing where you are.”

  “But?”

  “But that means I’ll know where you are too. I think I could pull magic from you, and that’s not equal, since you can’t draw magic from the Crossroads.”

  “Maybe. We haven’t tried doing much with the link yet. The Crossroads knows where I am?” He gave me a sideways glance.

  “Always. Like I said, it’s happy about that. It likes being connected to you.”

  “I don’t mind if the Crossroad wants to think of me as a random bit of magic that drifted up on the side of the road.”

  I smiled, because that was how the Crossroads thought of him.

  “We’re linked too, Card,” I said, tired of beating around the bushes. “The tattoos...well, I guess we’ve always been linked because of the tattoos, but now even more so.”

  He nodded, his hand landing over his wrist, clasping the ghostly lock tattoo there.

  “What do you think about that?” I asked.

  “I think it’s your call. You know I’m not always...reliable. You know I have to move, have to visit my tree. I tend to get mixed up in some pretty heavy shit. Lose track of time.”

  “Obviously,” I said dryly.

  “The wizards on both sides of the war are going to want my head on a pike. Or want my magic to bend to their will. Now that Stel found me here, there’s nothing to keep other attackers away.”

  “I’m here. I’m not afraid of wizards.”

  He slid me a smile. “Obviously.”

  “If it’s up to me,” I said, “I want you to stay, if you want to stay. I might still be in love with you, so you should take that into consideration.”

  He held his breath for a moment. I knew he was surprised at my admission, but had heard the peace offering. More than that, had heard the truth in it.

  “Well, I might have never stopped loving you,” he said quietly. “So. For your consideration.”

  “Consider it considered,” I said.

  He nodded, then we both just stared out at the tree, letting those declarations settle between us.

  I thought he was right. The tree needed a windchime.

  “How big’s the shop gonna be?” he asked.

  “Don’t know yet,” I said. “Plans keep changing.”

  He pushed away from the sawhorse and moved to stand in front of me. “Want any help?”

  Lachesis had said I might not like some of my allies. But she hadn’t told me that I might instead love one.

  “Yeah, yes,” I said, clearing my throat. “I think it’s time for you and me to get to know each other again, Card. When we aren’t being chased by wizards and seers and rougarous.”

  “And the tattoos?” he asked, catching one of my hands and linking our fingers.

  “Yeah, you’d better keep those. With all the trouble you get into, someone in this world should know where you are.”

  “Is that someone you?”

  “That someone is me.”

  “Good,” he said. “That’s all I need.”

  “Don’t know what you’re smiling about,” I said. “I’m gonna make you man the shovel and post hole digger.”

  “Do I get paid in lemonade?”

  “Weak lemonade. Without enough sugar.” I stood, and we were in each other’s space, neither of us wanting to move, neither of us looking away.

  It was good.

  No, it was more than that. It was a beginning.

  “I missed you, Ricks.” He produced a tiny dandelion flower from his pocket and gently placed it behind my ear, his finger drawing down the curve of my cheek, just like in my dream.

  The truth of his words resonated in the magic, in the moments we had shared, in my soul.

  “I missed you too,” I said, linking our hands back together. “Let’s not do that again.”

  He nodded and swallowed and looked like he was about to apologize again, but I was done with regrets.

  I walked past him, but held on to his fingers. He pivoted with the movement, and we let our arms stretch out, our fingers still joined. I glanced back at him.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s build a shop.”

  He grinned and closed the distance between us, then walked with me to the shovels, to the wood, and to the start of our second chance.

  About Devon Monk

  Devon Monk is a USA TODAY Bestselling fantasy author. Her series include Ordinary Magic, Souls of the Road, West Hell Magic, House Immortal, Allie Beckstrom, Broken Magic, and the Age of Steam steampunk series. If it's a Monk story, it's filled with magic, action, heart, and humor. She also writes all sorts of short stories which can be found in various anthologies and in her collection: A Cup of Normal.

  * * *

  She lives happily beneath the rainy skies of Oregon. When not writing, she can be found drinking too much coffee, watching hockey, and knitting silly things.

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  Visit Devon’s website at www.devonmonk.com.

  Heart Stings

  AN ELEMENTAL ASSASSIN NOVELLA

  Jennifer Estep

  To all the fans of the Elemental Assassin series who wanted more stories, this one is for you.

  * * *

  To my mom and my grandma—for everything.

  * * *

  To characters like Hugh Tucker—who turn out to be so much more than just villains.

  Note: Heart Stings is a 38,000-word novella from the point of view of Lorelei Parker. It takes place after the events of Last Strand, book 19 in the Elemental Assassin urban fantasy series.

  Heart Stings first appeared in the Dirty Deeds 2 anthology in 2022.

  Copyright © 2022 and 2023 by Jennifer Estep

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual or fictional characters or actual or fictional events, locales, business establishments, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The fictional characters, events, locales, business establishments, or persons in this story have no relation to any other fictional characters, events, locales, business establishments, or persons, except those in works by this author.

  No part or portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without prior permission from the author.

  All rights reserved by the author.

  Chapter One

  “We’re getting married—again!”

  Mallory Parker, my grandmother, made that pronouncement in a loud, proud voice and followed it up with a wide, beaming smile. Me? I held back a groan and downed some water from my crystal goblet to hide the grimace twisting my face.

  Stuart Mosley, Mallory’s husband, must have noticed my lack of enthusiasm, because he leaned forward and looked at me. “Don’t worry, Lorelei. We’re not actually getting married again. We’ve already been through that whole shebang once, which was plenty for me.”

  Mallory’s blue eyes narrowed, and every single part of her body bristled, including the wrinkles that lined her face. She sat up to her full height and somehow managed to peer down her nose at Mosley, despite the fact that they were both dwarves and only around five feet tall. “I wasn’t aware that one of the happiest days of my life was a shebang.”

  Mosley reached over and squeezed her hand, his hazel eyes gleaming in his tan, wrinkled face. “You know what I mean. All the fuss around planning the wedding. Picking out suits and dresses and flowers and ten different desserts for the reception. Now, that was most definitely a shebang. And for the record, it was one of the happiest days of my life too. And every day since then has only made me happier.”