Free One Thousand Kisses by Jody Wallace Page A

concern,” he said mildly.
    His proactivity with regards to hunting the Torval agents had been the exact therapy needed to erase the nightmares completely. Either he needed to capture the damned agents once and for all—or the changed content of the nightmares required another approach. He’d hidden it so far, but soon he wouldn’t be able to. His exhaustion would come out.
    He was almost to the point where he needed help.
    There wasn’t much he hated more than asking for help. The Torvals. Frivolous conversation. Gnomes. Large bodies of water. Lying. The Incident. The thought of Anisette making love to anyone but him. Turnips. Possibly human country music. Not much else.
    “I haven’t been sleeping as much as I should,” he said, which was true. “You know my schedule, but you don’t know I’ve been experimenting with shield magic in my personal time.” His omission of other experiments didn’t count as a lie.
    “Is that how you keep vanishing?” Skythia asked. “I thought your head was getting thick. Good trick. Is it something you can globe?” One of the many reasons crime was minimal in the Realm—it was next to impossible for perpetrators to hide once they’d been identified.
    Unless the perpetrator was Embor Fiertag.
    “I’ll have a preliminary report after the assessments. It’s enjoyable work but tiring.” When he presented the Torval agents to his cabinet in a nicely subdued bundle, their best weapon against the AOC’s chokehold, he doubted anyone would look too closely at how he’d achieved the feat. He’d tell them the censored version he, Jake and Talista had drummed up, but his staff’s forbearance did hinge on his success.
    “Are you saying there’s truth to the rumors?” Gangee asked. “If your performance is affected, Elder, it’s time for a new hobby.”
    “I haven’t pushed myself too far.” If he couldn’t rest well tonight, too far might be tomorrow. He couldn’t prop himself up with energy globes forever.
    “You could take a vacation,” Skythia suggested.
    Skythia usually retreated to Fiertaggen’s beach for long weekends, but she also had a hideaway in Key West. She used a simulacrum to cover her absence from the Realm like he did, although he’d dissuaded her from traveling to humanspace lately for reasons of his own. He found it ironic he used his simulacrum to conduct business while she used hers to pursue water sports and hideous clothing.
    They all had their hobbies. His just happened to be bringing the Torvals to justice.
    “I do have a request,” he said. “It occurred to me the real problem I’m having is a lack of hours in the day. As yet there’s no magical way to increase them. I’d appreciate it if research and development could get on that.”
    At first, his staff goggled. Time magic was as impossible as a forced bond. Then Skythia snorted. “Now I’m worried. If you’re trying to crack jokes, you’re punch-drunk.”
    Several cabinet members chuckled with relief, particularly R&D.
    “Perhaps I am. I’ll take tonight off.” A thorough sleep was crucial at this juncture.
    “If there’s nothing else?” Skythia asked pointedly.
    “There’s nothing else.” Embor inclined his head and thanked everyone for coming. “Gangee and I will report our findings with the princess tomorrow. Sleep well.”
    The other fairies popped out of the room so fast it doused the flames in the hearth. Embor returned to his chamber, set a shield and prepared for sleep. If resolve could make it so, tonight would be dreamless, and tomorrow Gangee would uncover the evidence needed to ensure the first set of Torvals got what they deserved.
    All in good time, he’d take care of the other set himself—with a little help from some unorthodox friends. Well, acquaintances.
     
    Brightness knifed through Embor’s vision. He shielded his face and squinted. A figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted by light.
    He’d been waiting for so long. Years. He tried to tell