HER excitement bubbled over as she strode towards Oswald. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him in a light hug, feeling the now familiar scent of his cologne brush against her senses. But Oswald stood stiff, unresponsive, as if her touch meant nothing to him.

Her heart faltered for a moment, but she brushed the feeling aside.

"He is probably tired," she told herself.

Oswald moved past her without a word, heading straight for the leather chair in the center of the living room. He sank into it, his posture relaxed yet distant, exuding the cold authority she knew too well. Queen swallowed the knot rising in her throat...