She knew she had missed a lot. He’d grown older and so had she, and though nothing of importance had occurred in her life away from shaman, Ciara knew that the world she’d been born to was never peaceful or quiet for long. Vengeful gods and magic tended to make every day a possibility. There was little room for routine on Shaman, though she knew people did try to find something to keep their sanity when everything changed constantly. A magicless world without divnities was different. It was monotonous and even if Ciara did remember how old she had been when she’d wandered through the rip out of shaman, she wouldn’t know how long it had been on either world.

As the king rose, Ciara twisted, her arm holding and pulling the duvet from its tightly tucked corners to cover her bare chest, to sit up and watch him. He, like her, was changed. As a good friend, Ciara didn’t need her telepathy to see how much his life had changed even though he was still the king. She didn’t need it, but the sobriety in his eyes tempted her. It would be easier to share without words, but that was more invasive. And anyway, Ciara knew that if he wanted or needed to tell her about what had happened in her absence he would.

Her eyebrows creased as one of Lilith’s gowns (it had to be Lilith’s, no one else would have the balls to put clothing in the kings room but the one woman who slept there) was offered to her. Enough time alone, Ciara was aware of her nudity but not particularly ashamed of it. Besides, she was fairly certain Lilith would kill her for being nude in Arthur’s bed and then casually donning a royal dress. Still, Ciara had to wear something if she didn’t want to walk around as a cat for the rest of the day. As Arthur turned (ever the gentleman), Ciara slid out from the blankets and sheets and pulled the silk over her head. As comfortable as the sheets had been, Ciara glided her fingers over the fabric before placing her palm on her old friend’s shoulder.

“Are you sure she won’t get jealous of how fabulous I look in her dress?” It was an effort to lighten the mood, but there was no lightening or jesting at a long needed reunion, and there was so much that needed to be said and shared between them that it seemed Arthur didn’t hesitate a moment before diving right in.

“It has been. After… after everything at the Lagoon I needed to get away. Just to clear my head.” She left her hand on Arthur, comforted by the physical contact with any fairy, let alone with a friend she could barely remember meeting. “I remember going for a walk with Nalani and getting caught in a rainstorm.” She frowned a little and slowly, her hair and eyes returned to their natural color. She was home and it felt strange enough to wear the queen’s dress without having her hair and eye colors as well. The day she was recounting had been so long ago it was a blur. “I must have passed through a rip… If I had known how long it would be before I could find my way back, I would have told you. You shouldn’t have worried.”

The hand on the shoulder moved until Ciara had embrassed the king and her now-clothed body pressed against him in her first hug in over a decade and a half. What she didn’t say was that she had needed most of her time away to get over Damon and what he had done to her, she’d needed the time to process all of the emotions that had been unleashed on the beach that day. She hadn’t meant to need so long, and she certainly hadn’t thought that Arthur would worry over her absence with so much to do on his own. Miss her, sure, but worry. She smiled at his words about that. “I came straight here as soon as I could though. So do I have to ask or will you tell me about everything I missed? How is…” Damon. She should just say it, really, but the name brought a pounding in her chest and a burning somewhere in her that she couldn’t extinguish. He didn’t own that part of her now but some part of his memory seemed to. “…everyone. How is everyone. And the lagoon?”

No part questioned Lilith’s presence on Shaman, or that she and Arthur would have children at all, let alone having lost one already. As soon as Ciara looked as red-headed as the day she left, she stepped away again and glanced at the door, certain that a jealous queen would be barging in any moment. Their third amigo seemed to have the senses of a… well a psychic for when friendly moments might be interpreted in more-that-friend-ly way.