The Long Road Home

"No more road trips," I grumbled, rocking my baby and trying to distract him from the rumbling road. "Ever again."

"Don't be so sore," Cora said, moving a checker. "At least we got the information we needed."

"Well, that I'll never begrudge," I said, smiling at her. "But next time?"

She grinned, anticipating my reply.

"We're taking a private jet."

Cora laughed, shaking her head and leaning back. "That would be a waste of resources, and it's probably too short a flight to Mom's temple," she sighed.

"Well, then none of our children," I huffed, leaning forward to study the board, "is going to have to learn to bend time and space, because I am not suffering through this again—" Before I finished, Roger hit a huge bump, sending the game board and pieces flying, despite their magnetic bond.

I groaned and leaned back as Cora sighed, gathering the scattered pieces. That particular distraction was over.

"Sorry!" Roger called.

"Won't happen again!"

"He just knew I was beating you," I grumbled as Sinclair sat beside me. "Why did you let him drive? You're better at it."

"Oh, no, he's not," Cora murmured, defending her mate, but Sinclair and I ignored her.

"He insisted," Sinclair shrugged, taking the baby. "And you know how he gets when he feels like he's not getting his turn with the toy."

I laughed, handing the baby to my mate, who smiled down at his grumpy son.

"I agree, though," Sinclair said, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Next time? All luxury. We'll get you drunk at the airport so you don't remember the flight, and then we'll luxuriate."

"That had better be a promise," I murmured, leaning against him, closing my eyes.

"You got it, baby," he whispered, kissing my head.

"Hey, so," Cora said, leaning across the table, her attention mostly on Sinclair. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Um, home?" he said, frowning.

"Yeah," she said, tilting her head. "But…like, bunker home? Horribly uncomfortable clinic home? Your home, the house of a thousand corpses?"

Sinclair chuckled. "Those are gone now," he said, waving a hand. "We have a…particular service that helps with those needs."

"Oh, weird," I said, sitting up, curious. "What's that job interview like?"

"Information above your pay grade," he said, patting my knee.

"So, we're going to the house?" Cora asked. "Is that…safe?"

"Well," Sinclair considered, "we're pretty damn sure the Cult doesn't have a problem with us—they were serving Xander, probably because he supplied them with money and resources. But now that we've seriously damaged the Cult's resources and manpower, and Xander has fled," he shrugged, "we don't see any reason not to go back to the city. We're keeping a close eye on things, but it's time to start our lives again."

"It has to be more complicated than that," I said, shaking my head. "Xander isn't going to rest—"

"No, he's not," Sinclair agreed. "But we aren't without resources, love. We only went to the bunker because we didn't know what we were up against. Now that our enemy is on the run, it's a good time to regroup and focus on the interrupted task: uniting this country under a single King."

"And that's you, right?" Cora asked.

"Well, we hope so," he grinned. "Any objections?"

"Are the people of this nation aware," she said, "that their King eats all the chips? And doesn't consider whether his sister-in-law wants any?"

Sinclair leaned forward, grinning. "Are they likewise aware that said sister-in-law ate all the chocolate chip cookies?"

Cora gasped. "Unfair!" she said. "This sister-in-law is pregnant!"

"Enough!" I groaned, as Rafe fussed in Sinclair's arms. I rubbed my temples as my mate and sister fell silent, grinning at each other.

"I cannot take argument on top of traveling in a sardine can. Also, it's smelly in here."

"Truce, then," Cora sighed.

"So, house?" I asked, looking at my mate.

"House," he nodded. "for now." I frowned, but he sent a pulse through our bond, signaling a private conversation. I kissed his shoulder and rested my head.

"So, what do you think," Cora asked, opening and closing her hands. "Am I going to be able to shoot lightning bolts at people? Or not?"

"You can do anything you put your mind to," I said placatingly, imagining how much she'd like to zap everyone who annoyed her.

"I've actually been meaning to talk to you about that," Sinclair said.

"Really?" she asked, eyes widening.

"Sure," he shrugged, leaning forward. "Considering I'm likely to become King of a nation with military concerns, I wonder if you'd consider experimenting with your gift as…a weapon."

"Really!?" she said, eager. "I never thought of it like that—"

"Cora!" I scolded. "You're a doctor! You shouldn't be thinking about hurting people with your gift!"

"Chill out, Ella," she murmured. "I'm not going to strike people down, but Sinclair is right—this could be strategically useful."

"Creating a hurricane in the face of an advancing navy," Sinclair offered. "Or ensuring our troops stay dry during a battle. This could turn the tide of any war."

I paled, looking down at my baby. I'd had enough of war, and I certainly didn't want him raised in one.

"Do you really think we're headed for situations like that?" I asked softly.

Sinclair stroked my hair. "I'm sorry to say it, love, but I think so. We're not coming to power in a time of peace. We can fight for that, but…we have to fight."

I sighed, worried.

"But at least they've got us," Cora said, offering her hand.

I looked up, not understanding. She shrugged. "You and I want peace. So do these three," she nodded to the Sinclair men. "Together, we're…kind of a force to be reckoned with. I'd rather be fighting for peace than letting others decide for us."

"I get it," I mumbled. "I just…want more for our children than that."

"We'll give it to them," Sinclair promised. I looked into his eyes, wanting to believe him. "Together, we'll make this world what it should be, for their sake, and everyone else's."

I nodded, taking my sister's hand. The RV rumbled on, driving us back to the city—the city, the nation, the world that was ours to shape, if we were willing to fight for it.