Kirastasia smiled luminously, beautifully, her entire façade transformed by the joy radiating from her already lovely features—because inside she raged a turbulent twisting mess, her previous airy high cruelly crushed by the merciless hammer of reality. The only way to maintain sanity was, of course, to pretend that absolutely nothing was wrong. She did not feel upset that Kahlan had spoken with such thoughtless insensitivity at the pack meeting; she did not give two SHITS about Kah whatsoever, as a matter of fact. Nope. No shits here. As far as the ex-healer was concerned, the snowbird had recovered flawlessly from . . . whatever bizarre relationship they’d shared, and she looked forward to ignoring her existence for the remainder of her time in Munashii. Milo wouldn’t have a problem with that, right? Kira had never been a particularly involved pack member in any territory she resided in; she had no idea what this new queen would expect of her.

Not that it mattered, in the long run. The punkette always did what she pleased.

Restless—but happy! SO happy!—the ivory goddess charged out of Munashii Gekko into the free lands. She’d caught Milo’s tantalizing scent weaving out of the border, and decided she might as well follow. The little queen had easily endeared herself to Kershov’s daughter; Kirastasia adored the grey-and-white Monarch the way she’d feel attachment to a new pet. Milo unknowingly led her admirer toward Staircase Falls—a romantic spot of Kira ever saw one. She immediately spotted her Alphess frolicking in the current, already wet past her abdomen.

Grin now curved with a definite arc of appreciation, Kirastasia situated herself on a ledge overlooking the rest of the falls, cushioned on a bed of moss fed by the river’s mist. “Enjoying yourself, Queenie?” the she-wolf called down.