Smiling, I came out in my jeans and Howlers sweatshirt. "Hey, uh, thanks for the pain amulet and letting me get cleaned up, Mr. Kalamack." I stopped beside the table, the awkwardness as thick and choking as bad cheesecake. "No need to bother Quen. I'll call my partner to come and get me. She's probably banging on your gatehouse already."

Trent made a visible effort to purge the anger from his posture. Elbows on the table so the sleeves of his robe fell to show the fair hair upon his arms, he said, "I'd rather have Quen take you home, Ms. Morgan. I don't particularly want to talk to Ms. Tamwood." He glanced at Ellasbeth. "Do you want me to call the airport for you, or are you staying another night?"

It was entirely devoid of any invitation. "I'll be staying," she said tightly. Bending at the waist, she picked up her bag and walked to her door. I watched her quick stilted steps, seeing in them a dangerous combination of callous disregard and ego.

"She's an only child, isn't she?" I said as the sound of her heels was lost on the carpet.

Trent blinked, his lips parting. "Yes, she is." Then he gestured for me to sit. "Please."

Not really sure I wanted to eat with the two of them, I gingerly sat on the chair opposite Trent. My gaze went to the fake window spanning the entirety of the wall that the small, nearby sunken living room took up. It was just after eleven according to the clocks I had seen, and it was dark with no moon. "Sorry," I said, my gaze flicking to the archway to Ellasbeth's rooms.

His jaw tightened for an instant, then relaxed. "Can I get you some coffee?"

"Sure. That would be great." I was almost faint from hunger, and the heat of my bath had drained me. I looked up with wide eyes as a matronly woman in an apron made her unhurried way out of the small kitchen tucked in at the back of the room. It was partially open to the seating arrangement, but I hadn't noticed her until now.

Giving me a smile that encompassed all her face, the woman set a mug of that heavenly scented coffee in front of me before topping off Trent's smaller teacup with an amber brew. I thought I could smell gardenias, but I wasn't sure. "Bless you," I said as I wrapped my hands around it and breathed in the steam.

"You're welcome," she said with the professional warmth of a good waitress. Smiling, she turned to Trent. "What will it be tonight, Mr. Kalamack? It's almost too late for a proper dinner."

As I blew on the surface of my coffee, my thoughts went to the different schedules of witches and elves, thinking it interesting that one of our species was awake at all times and that dinner happened about the same time for both of us.

"Oh, let's make it light," Trent said, clearly trying to ease the mood. "I have about three pounds of Ohio River sitting in me somewhere. How about a breakfast instead? The usual, Maggie."

The woman nodded, the white hair clipped close to her head not moving at all. "And how about you, dear?" she asked me.

I glanced between Trent and the woman. "What's the usual?"

"Four eggs over easy and three slices of rye toast done on one side."

I felt myself blanch. "That's eating light?" I said before I could stop my mouth.

Trent arranged his jammies' collar, peeking from behind his robe. "High metabolism."

My thoughts went back to how he and Ceri never seemed to get cold. The temperature of the river, too, hadn't affected him. "Um," I said as I realized she was still waiting. "The toast sounds good, but I'll pass on the eggs."

Eyebrows high, Trent took a sip of his tea, eyeing me over the rim. "That's right," he said, his voice unaccusing. "You don't tolerate them well. Maggie, let's go with waffles."

Shocked, I leaned back in my chair. "How did you…"

Trent shrugged, looking good in his bathrobe and bare feet. He had nice feet. "You don't think I know your medical history?"

My wonder died as I recalled Faris dead on his office floor. What in hell was I doing here eating dinner with him? "Waffles would be great."

"Unless you'd like something more traditional for dinner. Chinese doesn't take long. Would you rather have that? Maggie makes fabulous wontons."

I shook my head. "Waffles sound good."

Maggie smiled, turning to putter back into the kitchen. "Won't be but a moment."

I put my napkin in my lap, wondering how much of this let's-be-nice-to-Rachel scene was because Ellasbeth was in the next room listening and Trent wanted to hurt her for accusing him of cheating. Deciding I didn't care, I put my elbows on the table and took a sip of the best coffee I'd ever tasted. Eyes closing in the rising steam, I moaned in delight. "Oh God, Trent," I breathed. "This is good."

The sudden thump of heels on carpet pulled my eyes open. It was back.

I straightened in my chair as Ellasbeth came in, her dress coat open to show a starched white shirt and a peach-colored scarf. My gaze went to her ring finger and I blanched. You could run a city on the sparkle that thing put out.

Ellasbeth sat beside me, a shade too close for my liking. "Maggie?" she said lightly. "I'll have tea and biscuits, please. I ate while out."

"Yes, ma'am," Maggie said as she leaned through the open archway. Her tone lacked utterly in any warmth. Clearly Maggie didn't like Ellasbeth, either.

Ellasbeth fixed a smile to her face, setting her long, fragile-looking fingers on the table to best show off her engagement ring. Bitch. "Seems we got off the horse on the wrong side, Ms. Morgan," she said cheerfully. "Have you and Trenton known each other long?"

I didn't like Ellasbeth. I think I'd be pretty upset myself if I came home and found a girl in Nick's bathtub, but after seeing her shouting at Trent, I couldn't find any sympathy for her. Accusing someone of cheating is harsh. My smile faltered as I realized I had almost done the same thing to Nick. I had accused him of dumping me, asking if there was someone else. There was a difference, but not much. Shit. I had to apologize. That he hadn't told me where he'd been going the last three months while avoiding me didn't seem like enough reason anymore. At least I hadn't called him any names. Jerking myself from my thoughts, I smiled at Ellasbeth.

"Oh, Trent and I go back a long way," I said lightly, twirling a curl of my hair about my finger and remembering its new shortness. "We met at camp as children. Sort of romantic when you think about it." I smiled at Trent's suddenly blank look.

"Really?" She turned to Trent, the hint of a tiger growling in her voice's soft cadence.

Sitting up, I tucked my legs under me to sit cross-legged, running my finger across the rim of the mug suggestively. "He was such a cub when he was younger, full of fire and spirit. I had to fight him off, the dear boy. That's where he got that scar on his lower arm."

I looked at Trent. "I can't believe you haven't told Ellasbeth! Trent, you aren't still embarrassed about that, are you?"

Ellasbeth's eye twitched, but her smile never faltered. Maggie set a delicate looking cup full of an amber liquid by her elbow and quietly walked away. Her carefully shaped eyebrows high, Ellasbeth took in Trent's silent posture and his lack of denial. Her fingertips made one rolling cadence against the table in agitation. "I see," she said, then stood. "Trenton, I do believe I will catch a flight out tonight after all."

Trent met her gaze. He looked tired and a bit relieved. "If that is what you want, love."

She leaned close to him, her eyes on me. "It's to give you the chance to settle your affairs—sweetness," she said, her lips shifting the air about his ear. Still watching me, she lightly kissed his cheek. There was no feeling in her eyes beyond a vindictive glint. "Call me tomorrow."

Not a flicker of emotion crossed Trent. Nothing. And its very absence chilled me. "I'll count the hours," he said, his voice giving no clue either. Both of their eyes were on me as his hand rose to touch her cheek, but he didn't kiss her back. "Should Maggie pack up your tea?"