Page 110 of Made

“Or I’ll set the dogs on you.”

He laughed. “Ye can no’ set the dogs on me, Evie. They’remydogs!”

“Ex. Scruffen. Rox,” she said. “Will you obey my orders?”

All three said, “Yes,” in unison. Then Scruffen added, “Of course, you’re the master’s wife.”

“And you magicked us bodies of our own,” said Rox.

“So, we owe you,” said Ex. To Diarmuid, he said, “Sorry, boss.”

“Ye can no’ be serious!” Diarmuid looked genuinely distressed. “I’m the one who pled your case so that she’d give you yer own bodies. I’m also the one who said I’m keepin’ ye.”

“We know,” said Rox. “We’re terribly grateful and have pledged allegiance to you forever.”

“If it makes you feel better, she’s the only one who can overrule your command,” said Scruffen.

“Should that make me feel better?” Diarmuid asked.

“I believe it should,” Evie said with a smugness that made Diarmuid want to make her mad all over again.

“Alright. I give up.” He threw up his hands in mock surrender. “My wife is conspirin’ with my dogs, who’ve betrayed me. I’m goin’ for snacks.”

The three dogs simultaneously came to full alert at the mentions of “snacks” and jumped down from the navy sueded sofa that had recently been designated as authorized dog furniture.

The unicorn and the dragon had adjusted to the household’s addition of three Harlequin Great Danes as well as could be expected, except that Evie could tell Thorn and Squeaky were perplexed by their conversational skills. It was hard to say if their concern was the dogs’ ability to talk or their strange accents.

The queen had told Rhiannon’s tenured bodyguards to get over it because Diarmuid’s dogs, now known as the “royal dogs”, were there to stay. Naturally, she wouldn’t feel that way if it hadn’t been immediately evident that anyone wishing Rhiannon harm would suffer sore regret that they’d chosen to get out of bed that day. Because Ex, Scruffen, and Rox would take them apart and bring the limbs to Evie as trophies.

The canines stood at the bassinette staring at the baby without moving for a full hour. All the while, Squeaky vocalized his objections, and Thorn tried to nudge them away without causing a scene. She’d finally been forced to tell Diarmuid, “Please. I’m begging you. Get the dogs far enough away from Rhiannon to make Squeaky give it a rest. Either that or I’ll have no choice but to run from the building screaming. And you know the magic gets unpredictable if I get that upset.”

“What’re we havin’?” asked Rox, who was fully focused on the possibility of treats, and not nearly as interested in what the queen had to say.

“I do no’ know what I’m havin’,” Diarmuid said. “As for you, you can go look for your own snacks in the forest.”

The three did a synchronized downward dog bow. “Forgive us, Your Highness,” said Scruffen. “We’re only upholdin’ the standard of duty and loyalty someone of your noble stature would require of his best friends.”

How could he possibly argue with that?

Diarmuid had not been able to find fault with his dogs on any account, save that it was humiliating to be outfoxed and manipulated by one’s hounds.

As their voices receded, Evie could hear Diarmuid say, “Alright. How about tuna salad on gritstone wheat?”

“I LOVE tuna salad,” said Rox in deeper voice.

“Liar,” said Diarmuid. “I have no’ given ye tuna salad.”

“Well,” said Rox. “I lovetuna.”

All three dogs began talking at the same time.

“Good grief,” Evie said out loud to no one before closing the doors to the main entry of their rooms.

The day of the party arrived. Maeve had done everything, including providing a Barbie-pink outfit for Rhiannon that resembled Baptismal dress. There was always a question of who wore it first, pagans or Christians, but Evie suspected that particular ritual was mostly Catholic. That was confirmed because, when she removed it from the box and held it up, her first thought was,“Jesus.”

Evie could get past the religious symbolism faster than the color. Not that Rhiannon didn’t look good in that hue. Rhiannon looked good in everything. But Barbie-pink? Evie buried her face in her hands, inevitably remembering her wedding. If she tried to defy her mother-in-law by arriving with Rhiannon dressed in something even a tiny bit less garish, a very public and magical infight would easily ensue. And Connor might not be able to stop his wife before she wrecked the very party she was throwing. The problem was that Maeve’s competition compulsion would kick in and trump all else.

No.

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