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Q had asked that he be nicer to Harry. And Bond had promised he would. He'd mostly given Harry a wide berth on the ship, but now that they were docked and enjoying the solid ground of the palace, Bond figured he could make an attempt.

Q wouldn't be up for another hour, but Bond sat at breakfast, poring over a map. The table was set for the other two, and on Harry's plate was a box tied with twine. Inside, pressed between two pieces of glass, was an exquisite butterfly from the snowy peak of the fae realm. Its wings were iridescent and translucent, crafted as if of ice. It had a brilliant blue body and long, elegant antennae.

Bond sat as Harry joined him, looking up but saying nothing.
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