When the pretty pale Alphess—Milo—trotted over to greet the snowbird with a gentle caress across the brow, Kira all but purred and leaned into her touch. This brief moment of simply contact injected Kirastasia with a heroin bloom of relief that warmed her down to the toes; she did not rise to her paws immediately, but rolled onto her tummy to gaze up at the new Alphess with a light that closely resembled worship glimmering in her lustrous maple windows, her tail curled into a happy curly-que over her spine. “Oh, I think we’ll get along famously Lady Milo.” She spared a mischievous glance at the two quiet males, another fang-sharp grin tipping her lips. “I’ve always wanted to visit Munashii . . . this could be a delightful thing we all have going.”

Joyous multicolored waves tossed her lightly back and forth, whispering silly suggestions like fairies perched on her shoulders: flirt with the boys, give Milo a kiss, run! Dance! Aren’t Milo’s eyes the prettiest blue you’ve ever SEEN? Kira jumped to her paws, tail slashing the air with frantic happiness, her maw already parted to spew more words of swooning poetry and biting jabs—when she smelled Her.

An unmistakable, heartbreaking perfume, breezing deliciously past her muzzle and curling by her face as if the one who owned it had smoothed her tail under Kirastasia’s chin.

Kira’s jaw dropped when her Love, her Angel, her Obsession marched into the clearing like a queen robed in the warm tones of autumn, carriage tired and worn but just as lovely as ever. Instantly the snowbird’s heartbeat rocketed from measured beats to erratic, panicked thumps, the muscle knocking harshly at her breastbone, and her throat constricted and her posture stiffened and her pallid hackles spiked upright. Dear moon—was she crashing? Was this what withdrawal felt like? Because though she had surely dreamed of Kahlan on and off for far too many nights she had never hallucinated the wolfess THIS VIVIDLY, and now the roof of her mouth felt like sandstone cracking against her tongue. Kira gaped mutely as Kah strode toward Milo and mirrored the girl’s previous action, lowering to her spine and showing her vitals to the Alphess. She choked on a whine that wanted to peel from her vocal cords, terrified making a sound would destroy the fantastic illusion laying mere breaths away.

Kahlan . . . ? But why . . . why won’t she look at me? Gears turned behind brilliant amber eyes. Kira noticed her breathing ratcheting more rapidly—and abruptly stopped herself. It was as if she’d reached inside herself and flipped a switch, turning off the light that too brightly illuminated the ugly reality sitting stark in front of her. Kah didn’t want to acknowledge her? She wanted to act like Kira did not exist? Fine. Two could play at that game. And when Kirastasia won, and Kah was groveling at her paws for forgiveness, the pristine princess would find all sorts of fun ways to punish her old paramour.

She nodded flippantly to show she was listening to Milo’s airy yet firm lyrics, her hazy gaze currently riveted only upon the newly crowned Monarch’s visage. “Pack activities, participation, yadda yadda—sounds great.” The arrival of yet another stranger—an admittedly gorgeous femme painted with cinnamon and ash—gave Kirastasia a distraction she could latch onto with enthusiasm. She pranced an exaggerated arc around the unresponsive Kahlan to stick her muzzle into the newcomer’s space, springy on her toes in case this attractive lady felt like biting. “Ooh! You’re Anastasia? I’m KIRAstasia! How fun! It’s like fate, or destiny, or whatever you prefer.” She beamed cheekily at Milo—a pup showing off a new friend to a grown-up. “Miss Milo, your harem is expanding.”