#jocia

           Lyssa looked up from her place beside her mother and said, “That’s rude, Jonas.”

           He frowned at her while Lucia giggled, stroking her daughter’s braided hair. “That’s right, Lyssa. Perhaps we should put Jonas in etiquette classes with you.”

           “Can grown-ups take etiquette classes?” Lyssa asked, blue eyes widening.

           “They can if they need them,” Lucia responded, and Jonas didn’t like that she seemed to be actually considering the idea. Maybe he wasn’t exactly the well-trained lord a princess like her was supposed to marry, but he could present himself well enough. At least, he thought so. Besides, learning to read had been bad enough. Having to sit through etiquette classes would just be humiliating.

           “Now stand straight,” Lucia continued, patting the back of Lyssa’s head. “Here come Uncle Magnus and Aunt Cleo.”

           All three of them straightened themselves. Jonas stood a bit behind the two girls as he wasn’t technically of equal status with Lucia yet. If he hadn’t been a personal friend of Magnus and Cleo’s (well, maybe just Cleo’s), he would have waited inside. Jonas watched the royal carriage stop, and he shifted his weight restlessly. He hadn’t seen Cleo or Magnus since before the new baby had been born, and he was excited to catch up.

           But when the footman opened the carriage door, it was Prince Corvin who came tumbling out first. The little prince bounced out of the carriage and into the courtyard, looking in awe at the snow piled high out on the grounds. Jonas watched as Corvin started to move for it, but from the carriage came his father’s voice. “Corvin.”

           The little prince froze, moving back over to the center of the courtyard where Magnus was climbing out of the carriage, Briella in his arms. As Magnus got out he set his daughter, who looked like she had just woken up from a nap, down on the stones. She protested immediately, reaching her little arms up toward her father and wailing unhappily.

           “Briella,” Magnus said sternly. “You have to walk. Come on, be a big girl.”

           Jonas watched Corvin bounce over to his sister and grab her hand. “Come on, Bri,” he said. “We’ll stand over here.”

           But the little princess wasn’t having it. She sat herself on the stones and began to cry, and Jonas heard Cleo ask Magnus to move her so she could get out of the carriage. Magnus sighed, bending over to grab Briella’s arms and swing her out of the way. He set her on her feet, holding her up so she wouldn’t plant herself on the ground again. Then he took a second to shoot Lucia an apologetic glance, and Lucia giggled.

           Jonas felt his heartbeat pick up as he watched Magnus try to wrangle his toddler into being presentable. Was this what raising kids was normally like? Maybe he shouldn’t have been so gung-ho about wanting some of his own. Lyssa hadn’t been much trouble if you ignored the fact that there’d been a war going right when she was born. She was like her mother—bookish, proper, and quiet. Or, at least, that’s what Jonas figured Lucia had been like as a child.

           Children wrestled to the side, it was at last Cleo’s turn to emerge from the carriage. Jonas tried to pretend his breath didn’t catch a little when she appeared, golden hair radiant against the white and gray of the Limerian landscape, spring green dress a bright pop of color in the otherwise demure courtyard.

           Jonas was pretty sure some part of him was always going to be in love with Cleo. Not in the sense that he would ever pursue her again—no, she was happy with Magnus and he had fallen hard for Lucia. But every time Jonas saw his friend, no matter how many years it had been, something in his chest fluttered. She was special to him, in the same way there is always a pocket in one’s heart dedicated to their first childhood crush.

           As the royal family managed to get themselves in order and approached the steps where Lucia, Jonas, and Lyssa stood, Jonas dropped into a bow while Lucia and Lyssa curtsied deeply. Then the formalities were over, and Lucia rushed forward to greet her brother.

           As the Damoras embraced, Jonas made his way over to Cleo. She beamed at him, lightly rocking Evan in her arms. Jonas gave her the best hug he could without squishing the baby, then peered down at the bundle. Cleo tipped the blankets slightly so Jonas could see Evan’s face, flushed pink from the heat trapped in his blankets. Unlike his blonde-headed brother and sister, Evan had a tuft of dark hair, but his eyes were closed so Jonas couldn’t tell which parent he had inherited them from.

           “Congratulations,” Jonas said to Cleo.

           “Thank you,” she said as Lucia turned to them. She came over and gingerly embraced Cleo, also carefully leaning over the baby. The three of them smiled at him.

           “Another boy,” Lucia said. “I’m sure Corvin was very excited.”

           Cleo laughed. “He was, and Briella was furious. For the first few days she refused to come into the room with Evan at all.”

           “It will be tough for her to not be the youngest anymore,” Jonas said. “She’ll be jealous.”

           That also made Cleo giggle. “Oh, Magnus already spoils her and Corvin rotten. I’m sure he’ll continue to do so, even with Evan around.”

           “I do not spoil them,” Magnus argued. Jonas looked at the king and tried to ignore the way his stomach twisted unpleasantly, already rattling with nerves. When their eyes met, Magnus narrowed his by just a fraction, as if to remind Jonas that he knew what was going on in the Limerian palace and did not approve.

           Cleo looked up at her husband. “Oh yes you do. Who snuck them extra sweets from the table at Lady Mara’s wedding feast last week?”

           Magnus feigned ignorance. “It couldn’t have been me. I deplore sweets. I would ban them from the kingdom were it not already on such rocky ground.”

           Cleo rolled her eyes good-naturedly, but at that moment a cold wind blew across the courtyard. Jonas crossed his arms in front of his chest against the chill, but when the wind swept over Evan’s exposed face, the little prince woke up and began to cry.

           Immediately, Cleo focused all of her attention on her youngest son, putting her fingers gently to his face while bouncing him gently as he wailed. “Oh no, oh no, my darling,” she crooned. “I know, it’s terrible here. The cold is so dreadful.”

           “The cold is wonderful,” Lucia disagreed. “But even so, I am being a poor hostess. Come, let us move inside. Lyssa, we’re going in,” she called.

           Jonas looked over to where Lyssa had been entertaining Corvin and Briella by making tall spirals of ice rise from the snow using the elementia she had inherited from her parents. Corvin and Briella watched with wide-eyed delight, reaching their hands out to grab her formations.

           “It’s cold!” Jonas heard Corvin say, sounding delighted.

           “It’s ice,” Lyssa replied, sounding very much like her mother did whenever Jonas said something dumb.

           “Lyssa!” Lucia called again, and this time Lyssa heard her. She turned to her mother, who waved towards the door. Lyssa took Corvin by the hand and led him and his sister into the palace while Jonas, Lucia, and the royals followed shortly behind.

           Magnus continued their discussion as the four of them, Cleo still trying to soothe Evan, made their way up the steps and into the castle. “The cold is far better than the heat. It keeps you alert, and the snow covers weeds and disorder and makes everything pristine.”

           “Evan should like the cold,” Lucia added. “He has Limerian in him.”

           “So does Cleo most of the time,” Jonas pointed out.

           That made Cleo burst out laughing while Lucia blushed, pulled a squeamish face, and protested, “Jonas! The children are within earshot.”

           “Oh, they didn’t hear,” Jonas said, waving away Lucia’s reprimand. Magnus looked like he was torn between thinking the comment funny and not wanting to admit he found something that Jonas said amusing.

           But Jonas was right. The children were too busy craning their necks to look at the high, vaulted ceilings of the hall to have heard his remark, or to have thought twice about it. Lyssa, though less than two years older than Corvin, was watching her cousins with a sort of mature, resigned amusement. She had a mind far beyond her age, Jonas often thought. It was probably good he wasn’t her real father. That certainly wasn’t a trait anyone would ever attribute to him.

           Lucia led the four of them into the sitting room, where they spent the next while chatting about how things had been in their respective ends of Mytica, complaining amiably about politics and people and how little they got to see of each other. The conversation didn’t break until Evan began to fuss again, squirming in his mother’s arms.

           “He’s probably getting hungry,” Cleo said. She turned to one of her servants. “Bring me a blanket.”

           Then Corvin, who had disappeared with his sister and cousin some time before, came darting into the room, grabbing his father’s legs. “Can we go out in the snow?” he asked, tilting wide, pleading eyes up to the king.

           Jonas turned to see that Lyssa and Briella had also reappeared, standing in the doorway while they waited for the verdict.

           Magnus pretended to think about it. “I don’t know,” he said, lips twitching. “Momma says the snow is terrible.”

           Turning to his mother wide-eyed, Corvin asked, “Is it?”

           Cleo smiled at her oldest son. “Why don’t you go outside and find out for yourself? Papa says he loves the snow—I’m sure he would be glad to take you out to play.”

           Corvin began to jump up and down happily while Magnus sighed. “I suppose that’s fair.” He stood and offered a hand to Lucia. “Care to join me for a stroll about the grounds, sister?”

           Lucia smiled, also rising and taking his arm. “It would be my pleasure,” she said. Together, they rounded up the children and made their way out into the snow. The servant returned moments later with the blanket Cleo had requested.

           “Look away,” Cleo said to Jonas. He averted his eyes as she adjusted herself so she could breastfeed Evan. “Okay,” she said a few moments later, and he turned back around.

           As Evan suckled away beneath the blanket, Jonas had to admire that, three children in, Cleo apparently didn’t care at all about the propriety of breastfeeding her child with someone else in the room. Or perhaps she just didn’t feel that Jonas would be horribly offended by anything she did. If that was the case, he had to admit that she was right.

           “All of your babies are so…squishy,” Jonas said, poking at Evan’s feet, which Cleo had unbound from the swaddling and left sticking out of the breastfeeding blanket.

           That made Cleo smile. “All babies are squishy.”

           There was no reason Cleo would have thought otherwise, Jonas supposed, as she had probably only ever seen the babies of nobles who had nice homes and plenty to eat. But images of infants, thin and sallow, flashed across Jonas’s mind, images of Paelsian children whose baby fat was quickly sucked away by malnutrition, whose mothers were so thin and underfed they couldn’t produce milk for the child. No, he thought. Not all babies were squishy.

           But he didn’t say that to her. Instead he said, “And they’re so loud. And energetic. It seems like that would have been tough for Magnus.”

           Cleo snorted. “Well, I’ll let him know you’re concerned about him,” she teased. Jonas felt his cheeks warm and hoped Cleo would attribute it to how close they were sitting to the fire. He wasn’t worried about Magnus, of course, but seeing Magnus and Cleo with their young children had made him increasingly nervous about himself.

           After the war, Jonas had found he quite liked travelling around Mytica—seeing the sights, meeting the people, getting to know…some of the women. He had finally felt important, useful, successful—things he had never felt as either a wine seller’s son or a rebel. But after a few years, after beginning to come more frequently to visit Lucia in the north, after watching Lyssa begin to grow from a toddler into a child that could think for herself, he realized that he hadn’t spent much, if any, of his life feeling safe. He had some good memories from his childhood, sure, of hunting with Tomas and Brion, of chattering with his sister while she mended the clothes he and his brother had torn while roughhousing. But those were memories tainted by hunger, by need. They weren’t really calm. They weren’t really safe.

           For a while, he had pushed his nagging need for stability aside. Eventually, however, after several months of seeking comfort with pretty women he found in taverns, Jonas had one of his visits to the former Limerian palace. After dinner, he and Lucia had sat in the library, drinking red wine and filling each other in on all that had been missed (though, of course, Jonas never mentioned the women he met to Lucia). Then, after they’d each drained a few glasses, Lucia had leaned in and kissed him, and put her legs across his waist, and invited him to her bed.

           A better man than Jonas might have said no, they couldn’t, it wouldn’t be right. But Jonas was not a better man, and he had taken her up to her room with little protest. When he had woken up in the morning, all he could think was that he had been changed. Not because Lucia was…particularly skilled. She wasn’t, really. Jonas felt somewhat guilty for having taken so many lovers throughout the years while Lucia didn’t seem to have shared flesh with anyone since Alexius. Not that he and Lucia had formally made any commitment, or even true expression of interest, in one another before that night, but looking back on it now, he thought that maybe it had been unfair of him.

          Regardless, what had changed him was that when he had woken up next to Lucia and seen her still sleeping, looking for once peaceful and calm, he had realized he wanted to wake up next to the same woman every morning and come home to children that were actually his. He had realized that he wanted to settle down

           But when Lucia had woken up, she had treated it all like it had just been for fun, and Jonas had swallowed his newly realized feelings. It wasn’t the first time he had felt a tug of affection for Lucia, but only then did he realize that he might truly love her. Yet, he couldn’t blame her for just wanting fun from him. After all, he was no stranger to casual sex. So they had kept on like that, month after month, even when the servants, and then all of Mytica, began to talk. They had kept on until Jonas couldn’t do it anymore, until he had to know if the longing in Lucia’s eyes was really the same as what he felt.

           Since she had accepted his initial proposal, things had been in some ways the same, in some ways different. They still shared flesh. They still drove each other mad. But between all of that, there were more casual kisses, more shy conversations about do you think our kids will…, when we’re married you better not…, do think this will be different when we’re husband and wife?

           It was all so close. It was a future just within reach. Unfortunately, to get it, Jonas had to get permission from the one person least likely to give it to him.

           Cleo spoke, pulling him from his thoughts. “But you’re right about them being energetic. I’ll admit some part of me had hoped they might be as well-behaved as Lyssa, but….” She laughed. “I suppose, considering the personalities of their parents, it was vain to even wish.”

           “But you love them all the same,” Jonas said. Cleo may have looked tired, dark circles under her cerulean eyes, but her face was still full of joy, the picture of someone who was, in all major regards, happy.

           “Of course,” Cleo said, beginning to sound puzzled. “Why the sudden interest in my children?” She studied Jonas for a long moment, then suddenly her eyes widened. “By the goddess. Don’t tell me Lucia’s—”

           “No, no!” Jonas said waving his hands frantically to cut her off. He glanced around nervously, but there were no servants within earshot. “It’s not that.”

           Cleo continued to watch him, looking suspicious. “Are you certain? You are taking precautions?”

           Jonas couldn’t believe she was trying to give him this lecture. He wanted to melt into the floor. “Yes, Cleo. This isn’t my first time doing this.” He hoped she wouldn’t relay that statement to Lucia. “I’m not one of your children. I don’t need you checking in on my activities.”

           Cleo narrowed her eyes. “All of Mytica is already saying poor things about you and Lucia’s involvement. It’s just that Magnus and I—Magnus especially—are still on unsteady ground with the people. Many don’t want the Damoras on the throne, not after Gaius, and I don’t want there to be any more excuses for them to talk poorly about my family.”

           “Well, then perhaps they would rather have a celebration,” Jonas said. “I’m asking about your children because I’ve asked Lucia to marry me.”

           Immediately, Cleo’s eyes went wide and she gaped at him. “Oh Jonas, have you really? You didn’t tell us!” She began to light up, looking excited, then paused. “Ah. Is that…because you didn’t get a favorable answer?”

           “No, no, I did,” he said. Cleo beamed. “But, uh, in order for Lucia to really accept the proposal, she says I have to get Magnus’s blessing.”

           “Oh,” Cleo said, letting out a slow breath. “Oh my. She really wants to make sure you’re dedicated.”

           “I don’t suppose you have any advice for dealing with him?” Jonas asked hopefully.

           She laughed. “Well, given that you can’t tempt him to take your side by promising to share flesh—or by threatening to not share flesh—no, I don’t know that I have anything that could help you.”

           “I suppose I could try that,” Jonas said. “But I think it would hurt my cause more than help it.”

           Cleo giggled. Then her smile faded and she looked at Jonas, face serious. “You truly intend to marry Lucia? Stay in one place, with one woman, and start a family? I’ll admit, Jonas, I never really thought you the type.”

           “I wasn’t, not until recently,” he admitted. “But when Lucia and I started, um, getting more involved—”

           “I wouldn’t bring that up when you’re talking to Magnus,” she advised.

           “I won’t,” he said. No way in hell would he remind Magnus that he was sleeping with his sister. “But anyway, I realized that I really liked coming back to her and Lyssa, and that I wanted that to be…real. And I realized that for as annoying as Lucia can be sometimes, I had, you know, really fallen for her. That I loved her. I mean, that I do love her.”

           Cleo’s face had gone impassive. Apparently, while being married to her had made Magnus begin to open up, some of his mannerisms had rubbed off on her as well. Then she sighed and gave him a wry smile. “Jonas, I believe every word and know that I am genuinely happy for you. Unfortunately, I don’t know that a romantic tale like that is going to do anything to change Magnus’s mind.”

            “I know,” Jonas lamented. “He hates me.”

        “That’s not personal,” Cleo said, sounding unconcerned. “Magnus hates people in general. In all honesty, I don’t think he hates you as much as he pretends to, or as much as he wishes he did.”

        “So you think I have chance of convincing him?”

        Cleo took a thoughtful breath, shifting Evan in her arms. “I don’t know. You know how protective of Lucia he is. He doesn’t think anyone is worthy of her, especially, not, well….” She looked pointedly at Jonas, seeming apologetic.

        “Gee, thanks,” he said, rolling his eyes. But he wasn’t really hurt—he knew she wasn’t trying to be mean, just honest.

        “Sorry.”

        “No, you’re right.” Jonas sighed. “I’m not even sure Lucia thinks I’m worthy of her. You should hear her, talking about how she wishes she had fallen in love with someone handsome and suave instead of me.”

        “She said that about you?” Cleo asked incredulously.

        “She said that to me!” Jonas flopped back against the sofa. “What’s wrong with us, Cleo? Out all of the people, all across Mytica, how did we end up in love with those two?”

         Cleo laughed. “You and I must simply have no regard for what’s good for us.”

         “We’ve certainly never had that,” Jonas agreed, and he and Cleo grinned at each other.

         Then Cleo looked down at Evan, lifting the blanket slightly to peer at him. “Are you done?” she asked, shifting him. Jonas heard Evan squeak, which he figured must have meant “yes” in baby.

           As Cleo moved Evan around so he was no longer covered, the blanket slipped and Jonas caught sight of her exposed breast. Jonas told himself to look away, but he stared for just a second too long. Lucia had fairly nice breasts—he certainly wouldn’t complain about them, not that he was one to complain about any breasts—but Cleo’s were especially stunning. Unfortunately, she caught him looking.

           “I’m not sure if I should reprimand you because you’re about to be a married man, or if I should let you look because you’re about to be a married man,” she said drily, tucking herself back into her gown and propping Evan up so she could burp him.

           Jonas blushed. “Sorry,” he muttered.

           Cleo snorted, patting Evan’s back in a steady rhythm. “Well, I will say that if you want to win Magnus over, not ogling his wife’s breasts might be a good place to start. Especially given the nature of your request.” Evan let out a small belch, then spit white goo down the blanket Cleo had over her shoulder. “Oh, that was a good one,” she cooed, passing Evan to Jonas so she could fold the soiled cloth.

           “Making his Uncle Jonas proud,” Jonas said, wiggling the fingers of his free hand in front of Evan’s nose. Now fully awake, Evan gave Jonas a wide, toothless grin and began to squirm excitedly.

            Then the door at the other end of the study opened and the Damoras came in, faces pink from the cold.

           “What did you do with the children?” Cleo asked, looking around their legs.

           “We passed them off to the nanny,” Lucia said. “Getting pelted with snowballs was fun for them much longer than it was fun for us.” Jonas noticed that both of the siblings had white powder dusting their dark hair and clothes.

           “They are in Lyssa’s old nursery now, if you’d like to bring Evan up,” Magnus said, coming over to kiss Cleo’s cheek.

           “I will,” she said. “And you’ve come in with perfect timing. Jonas has something he’d like to talk to you about.”

           All of the feeling left Jonas’s limbs. He looked up from Evan, alarmed, and said, “Cleo, wait—”

But Cleo was already taking her child back from him and heading for the door, grabbing Lucia as she swept past. Lucia had just enough time to lock eyes with Jonas, looking as alarmed as he felt, before Cleo took her by the arm by and pulled her out the door. The thud as it closed sounded terrifyingly final.

           Magnus turned to Jonas, face unimpressed. Jonas gave him an embarrassed smile. “I, uh, didn’t realize she was going to do that.”

           “Well, it sounds like this conversation is going to be an absolute delight then. And I already so enjoyed talking to you.”

           Goddesses, why did Cleo love him? Jonas took a breath, trying to compose himself, as Magnus stood, arms crossed, and watched him silently. The king didn’t look particularly eager to hear what Jonas had to say, but there was a hint of curiosity in his dark eyes. Jonas rose to his feet, feeling small sitting on the sofa.

           He didn’t know how to start the conversation. He had hoped to put it off for as long as possible, and he had planned to be the one to decide when the conversation happened. Of course, Jonas had ever been particularly good with words, and he hadn’t come up with anything in the month leading up to Magnus’s visit, so perhaps this was simply how this conversation was doomed to play out.

           He waited too long, and Magnus raised an eyebrow. “If this is some charade, I suggest you and my wife leave such games to the children. It is not nearly as amusing when you do it.”

           Jonas flushed. “It’s not a charade,” he said. “I do have something to ask you. I just…was caught by surprise. And it’s important,” he added. This was ridiculous, he told himself. He had faced down the Kindred by Magnus’s side. He should have been able to look him in the eye and ask him for his sister’s hand in marriage, a hand that she herself had already given.

           Magnus made a “well, go ahead then” gesture. Jonas took another breath and blurted, “I would like your permission to marry Lucia.”

           If Jonas thought Magnus had looked cold before, it was nothing compared to the hard look that shuttered over his face at those words. “Absolutely not,” he said.

           Jonas bristled, but he swallowed his anger. He had known this was going to happen. But he couldn’t entirely contain himself. “Care to share your reasons?” he demanded.

           Magnus looked at Jonas like he thought that was an immensely stupid question, which, in retrospect, it was. “Lucia is not marrying the likes of you. And in fact, perhaps this conversation is good. It reminds that I actually had been meaning to talk to you as well.” Magnus had drawn himself up to his full height, which was not much above Jonas’s but felt like an entire foot. “In fact, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Lucia. I think it might be best if you made our palace, not hers, your primary station. I think it best you not return here at all, in fact.”

           That Magnus had the gall to not only reject Jonas’s request without a single regard for either of the potential betrothed’s feelings but to basically threaten Jonas into staying away from his sister made Jonas’s stomach twist with disgust. “You cannot forbid me from seeing her. She is not yours to lock away, and I sure as hell am not going to be pushed aside like some wandering suitor.”

           “I am the king, and she is my sister,” Magnus said coldly. “While she is her own woman, it is well within my right to protect her from unwanted advances.”

           “Unwanted advances my arse,” Jonas said, forgetting what little sense of formality he had. “I already asked her, and she agreed.”

           Magnus seemed unfazed. “Well, as much as I love my sister and think her quite intelligent, she did once attempt to elope with her tutor and ended up having his child out of wedlock, so you’ll forgive me if perhaps I don’t trust her judgement on such matters.”

           Jonas could only imagine the fury on Lucia’s face if she were to hear her brother say that. He glared, mentally digging in his heels. “Oh, right, and you were the pinnacle of virtue before you and Cleo were involved. Never slept with anyone else, never made mistakes, never, you know, stabbed her previous boyfriend through the back.”

           Fury blazed in Magnus’s otherwise cold eyes. “Don’t you dare bring that up. What happened with Theon was long in the past. I am not the same person now as I was then.”

           “Really?” Jonas asked, miming surprise. “Because you’re certainly acting like him. You’re being a fucking hypocrite, Magnus. None of us are the same people we were before the war, or even during it. You’ve changed, I’ve changed, Lucia has changed.” Jonas plowed on before Magnus could argue. “I’m sorry that, unlike your sister, the rest of us Paelsians weren’t lucky enough to be stolen from our cradles and raised as royalty. But you know what, Magnus, I’ve really tried my best to make something of myself in this new Mytica of yours. I’ve learned to read, I’ve travelled all over and delivered all of you and Cleo’s verdicts, and I’ve even gotten pretty decent at court protocol, if I do say so myself.” Magnus made a face like he probably wouldn’t have said so.

          “And if it makes you feel better,” Jonas continued, ignoring the look, “Lucia constantly reminds me that I need to keep trying to be better. Even if she didn’t, being around her makes me want to be better. So I’m sorry I’m not you or your sister’s vision of her perfect husband, but I’m trying my best.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what else I can do to get your approval.”

           There was a long silence after that. Jonas’s heart was pounding against his chest as he watched Magnus mull things over, silently staring at Jonas and working his jaw. There was nothing else Jonas could say, though he would stand there and trade insults with Magnus all day if that was what it took to secure Lucia’s hand. But he didn’t want to do that. He was already regretting bringing up Theon. Over the years, Jonas really had come to consider Magnus a friend, and he thought the king felt the same way, if only begrudgingly. Jonas wanted to build a stronger relationship with the man he hoped was going to become his brother-in-law, not burn the flimsy bridge that was already there.

           The silence stretched on, continuing for so long that Jonas began to get antsy. Sitting still and being quiet weren’t his strong suits. “What are you thinking?” he finally asked.

           Magnus shrugged. His face was still free of emotion, but something in his eyes and jaw had softened. He now looked more like the man Jonas had come to know. Magnus studied Jonas for a moment more and then sighed. “I’m thinking that I am absolutely shackled.”

           Shackled, tied down by his wife. Jonas completely agreed, though he wasn’t sure why that was relevant right now. Magnus answered Jonas’s confused look. “I must be, because I’m thinking about how disappointed she would be in me right now. And that even if you were to tire of arguing with me, which it did not seem you were going to do, she would surely take your place without hesitation. So I’m thinking that it might be best to save myself the trouble.”

           A tiny bud of hope began blooming in Jonas’s chest. Magnus uncrossed his arms and continued, “When I was younger, when I was that boy I’m trying hard not to be anymore, I ran off every suitor that came to call on Lucia.” He seemed to stumble over something, but then he continued, “It has been a long time since anyone has made a legitimate call for her hand. Nobles ask me all the time, but they mean it as nothing more than a political move. They just want to be connected to the royal family. They’re not interested in her, so it’s easy to say no. It feels no different than telling them they cannot have an extra well dug by their home. But hearing you ask…it reminded me of being young again. Of looking at someone who might truly take her away from me.”

           It was an unusually sincere statement from Magnus. Perhaps Cleo was right, Jonas thought. Maybe Magnus really was, secretly, a little bit fond of him.

           “Which, I suppose,” Magnus continued. “Is why my instinct was to act like that boy I used to be. You know, I used to tell Lucia’s suitors that if they could not hold their own against me, they would not last a single moment with her. And that she would have little interest in them.” Finally, emotion touched his face in the form of a wry smile. “Well, though I think it may be from pigheaded tenacity rather than capability of wit—” Jonas figured that could be taken as a sort of compliment. “You have shown yourself, many times, to be capable of enduring an argument with me. And Valoria knows how you and Lucia have bickered since you met.”

           “Yeah, something about that is apparently very enticing to you Damoras,” Jonas said, thinking about how Magnus and Cleo conducted their relationship. “If the two of us were inclined for men, I suppose we might have run off together.”

           Magnus snorted. “I very much doubt that. I do still have some standards, and I assure you, you do not meet them.” The blossom of hope began to wilt. “But,” Magnus said. “I suppose I am not the one who has to be married to you.”

           “I wonder how Lucia would feel about you saying that,” Jonas mused drily.

           To his surprise, a corner of Magnus’s mouth turned up. “Why don’t we ask her?” he said. “Unless I’m mistaken, that rustling I keep hearing is my dear sister and my beloved wife eavesdropping from the other side of the door.”

           It took Jonas a moment to register what Magnus had said, and then he turned hesitantly to the sitting room door. It creaked open, and both women poked their heads around it, Cleo looking sheepish, Lucia looking torn between chagrin at being caught and anger, probably at her brother’s words.

           “Well,” Magnus said. “Now that everyone is accounted for, why don’t you two come in and join us. Talking to Jonas alone makes me feel like my mind is shrinking.”

           The two entered the room, Cleo’s arms now free of her infant son. As they approached, Lucia crossed her arms and glared at her brother.

           “Are you certain you want me here?” she asked, voice icy. “Last I heard, you didn’t trust my judgement on such matters.”

           Magnus had the decency to wince at that. “That, ah, was before I realized you two were listening in.”

           “Wonderful. That means that you meant it.”

           Cleo walked over to stand beside Magnus. “I liked the part where you realized that if you kept arguing you’d have to answer to me,” she said, standing up on tiptoes to kiss Magnus’s cheek. “You’re finally learning.” Magnus rolled his eyes, but he seemed mollified.

           Then Magnus turned to Lucia. He moved away from Cleo and asked, “You truly wish to marry him?” There was no malice in his voice. It was a genuine question, seeking assurance before giving what Jonas hoped was a favorable answer.

           “Yes,” Lucia said, her voice a whisper.

           “You love him?”

           “Yes. More….” Lucia turned to Jonas as she answered her brother. “More than I can comprehend. More than I can put into words.” A lump rose in Jonas’s throat as Magnus continued to hesitate. He was looking at Lucia, mouth moving slightly like he wanted to form words but couldn’t.

           When Magnus said nothing, Lucia turned back to him. She studied him for a moment, reading him in a way very few people could. Then Jonas watched her eyes soften. “Magnus, if there is room in your life, in your heart, for both me and Cleo, trust that there will be room for both you and Jonas in mine.”

           Something in Magnus seemed to break at that, and for a second the king looked like he might begin to cry. Jonas thought that had he not been in the room, Magnus probably would have. But instead Magnus drew in an unsteady breath, regained his composure, and said, tightly but not unkindly, “Then you have my blessing.”

           All of the tension in Jonas’s body left so fast he nearly collapsed. Lucia moved forward and threw her arms around her brother’s neck, kissing his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

           Magnus chuckled, hugging his sister back. “I’m not certain you should be thanking me for this. Marriage is a lifetime commitment, you know.”

           Lucia giggled. “Well, he and I have been together this long, and instead of getting sick of him, I have instead only grown more fond of his presence.” She pulled away from her brother and came over to Jonas. Her face was glowing with excitement, and he was sure he must have been wearing a similar expression. As she got close, he moved in and pressed his mouth to hers.

           “And it is, I suppose, the honorable thing for the two of you to do,” Magnus added.

           The newly betrothed pulled away, both blushing. Lucia shifted her weight and moved so she was half-hiding behind Jonas. “Exactly,” she said, now not meeting her brother’s eyes. “We’re being responsible adults, just as you wish of us.”

           Magnus shook his head, sighing good naturedly. Cleo changed the topic, saying, “Oh, and we’ll have to make an announcement! An official royal proclamation. We’ll do it before we leave.” She said it cheerfully, though Magnus did not look particularly thrilled by the idea.

           “And we’ll have to tell Lyssa,” Lucia said, sliding her hand into Jonas’s. “Though we can do that right away. She’ll be thrilled.”

           “You think so?” Jonas asked.

           Lucia blushed again. “I know so,” she admitted. “Lyssa has actually told me several times that she thinks you and I should get married. I think…I think she really wants a father in her life.”

           And that afternoon, when they took Lyssa out into the garden and told her, she was indeed thrilled. The careful, formal Damora presence that Lucia had been nurturing in her daughter completely vanished, and Lyssa had thrown her arms around both of them, bouncing up and down like her cousin often did and squealing “Jonas is going to be my papa! Jonas is going to be my papa!”

           Jonas would have been lying if he said it hadn’t brought him to tears.

           Then, late that evening, Jonas found himself alone with Lucia on the library sofa, the same place they’d been when she’d first asked him to take her to bed. Cleo had dragged Magnus away a few minutes before, saying, “I’m still cold, and I hear the cure is to have some Limerian in you. And I need a very healthy dose. Good night!” Magnus had followed her without a word of protest.

           “You’d think,” Jonas mused. “That after a few years and their three kids, they might have begun to settle down a little.”

           Beside him, curled up against his side, Lucia giggled. “Is that what you think will happen to us?” she asked. “We’ll do this for a few years and then the flame will die out?”

           “Never,” Jonas said. “I’ll never stop wanting to get those stiff, prudish dresses off of you.”

           Lucia pinched him hard in the side. “They may be modest, but they’re warm, which is what’s important.”

           Jonas made a noise of dismissal. “Please, I’m more than happy to help you fight the cold. I’m sure having Paelsian in you a perfectly suitable cure as well.”

           Lucia giggled again, sitting up so she could press her forehead to his. “Should we go find out?” she murmured.

           After they had finished their “tests” (it was a perfectly suitable cure, Lucia said), Jonas looked up at the roof of Lucia’s four-poster, thinking that it was soon to officially become their four-poster. Their four-poster that sat in their castle, which would house their children and their guests. Theirs. Together.

           Unfortunately, it was no use. Lucia was awake, and try as she might, she could not fall back asleep. Sighing, she sat up, the blanket falling away from her to leave her naked torso prey to the cold. She rubbed her arms, looking around for either her nightgown or her robe. But the warmth grabbed at her from the bed, pulling her back down.

           “What’s your rush?” a voice, still deep and raspy from sleep, murmured against her ear. “Come here, come back to bed.”

           Lucia shifted around so she could look at him. Jonas Agallon was very cute when he slept, she thought, though she would never say as much to him. Sleep left his hair messy and his cheeks flushed, and his dark eyes were half-lidded as he looked at her, pushing his fingers through her tangled hair.

           “I have meetings to attend,” she said brusquely, pulling away from him again so she wouldn’t succumb to his suggestions. She slid out of the bed, finally locating her midnight-blue robe and pulling it on. The fur lining was soothing against her bare skin. She perched herself back on the edge of the bed. “You should go before the servants come to call on me.”

           Jonas snorted. “Why? They already know I’m in here.”

           Lucia pursed her lips. She knew he was right—nearly all of Mytica knew of their…involvement. But it was one thing for people to know that something was happening behind closed doors—to have the doors open was another matter entirely.

           “Because it’s already late morning and I’m trying to be a good duchess. Now get out of here.” She pushed some of her dark hair over her shoulder and smiled coyly at him. “But when I’m done being duchess, we can see about my coming back to bed.” She rose from the mattress. “Now go. I’ll see you tonight.”

           Jonas sat up, but he didn’t move for the door. Instead, he stared at Lucia. Not in the playful, needy way he usually stared when she was in her robe, but like she was a riddle carved into a wall and he wanted to solve it. It was an unusually serious look for him.

           Lucia felt her cheeks starting to get hot, and she crossed her arms. “Quit staring,” she said, trying to coax some of their usual banter out of him. “You’re not getting anything else from me this morning. Now, I mean it. Get dressed, and I’ll see you this evening.”

           He didn’t take her bait. He continued to stare for several long moments, seeming to roll something over in his head, until finally he said, softly, “What is this, Lucia?”

           Lucia frowned, confused. “I’m not certain what you mean.”

           He motioned between them, her in her robe, him naked in her bed. “This,” he said. “Us. What is it to you?”

           The heat that was already in Lucia’s cheeks spread down her neck and arms, and she moved to the window, praying for the cold air to soothe her. “Exactly what it seems,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “Pleasurable company. Stress relief. Friendship with…a little extra.”

           She heard Jonas take a deep breath. “That’s all?” he asked, and she thought he might have sounded hurt.

           “What do you want me to say, Jonas?” she asked. But she knew. And she had hoped this conversation would never happen.

These years, since the Kindred, since the war, would have been devastating without him there. She wished it wasn’t so. She wished she had gotten some knight or handsome prince who would have come and swept her off her feet and put a glittering crown on her head.

           Instead she had gotten crass, uneducated Jonas Agallon, the Paelsian peasant, who argued with her at every turn and sometimes made her feel like she might climb a wall just to get away from him. He was infuriating, and he was impudent, and he was…perfect. In some stupid, cosmic joke, he was perfect.

           Because he made her feel young, something she almost never felt anymore. When they argued she felt like the young girl who had once fought her father for books to read. When he returned to Limeros after overseeing the efforts in Paelsia, her heart lifted the way it would when Magnus and her father would return from hunting. When he took her to bed and kissed her, it was like she was the most important person in the entire world.

           But she was royalty. He only had any voice in Mytica’s courts because of his friendship with Cleo. He was a peasant, far beneath her station. She couldn’t…she couldn’t love him.

           How many times had she said that to herself over these past few months? How many times had she seen him playing with Lyssa, felt the warmth in her chest, and had to look herself in the mirror and say no, Lucia. No. You cannot love him.

           You cannot love him.

           “You know the answer to that,” Jonas replied softly. “Lucia, this was fun for a little while. I mean this part…” He motioned to the bed, to his naked frame. “Is still fun. Very fun. But this part where I get shoveled out the door in the morning? Not fun, Lucia. Especially not after all we’ve been through.”

           Lucia’s stomach rose in her throat. Out the open window, the day was beginning. Carts were arriving with the day’s produce and milk. Lyssa’s governess was making her way up the stairs.

           “Jonas, please. Now is not the time for all this. Just…please get dressed and go. We can talk about it tonight.”

           “No,” Jonas said flatly. “Because in that time you’ll come up with some excuse not to talk about it then, either.” Lucia turned to him and found him with his arms crossed, back braced against the bed’s headboard. He was glaring at her.

           Something unpleasant stirred in her stomach, her old anger at being disobeyed, but when she opened her mouth to order him to leave, he spoke before she could. “I love you, Lucia,” he said. All of the words waiting her throat vanished. “I love you, and I love Lyssa, and I could even love this damn ice castle if I could be sharing it with you. And not just sharing your bed. Sharing everything.”

           Lucia’s heart started to pound painfully in her chest. “Jonas, that’s…that’s too bold. You’re speaking out of turn.”

           Jonas snorted. “’Speaking out of turn.’ When have I ever bothered with what is and isn’t proper to say to you?” He shifted his weight and the blanket slipped farther down his torso. Despite their arrangement, Lucia found herself blushing at the sight of him nearly exposed. “Lucia, I’m being serious,” he continued. “You and I, we’ve had each other’s backs through a lot. I saved your life a few times, you saved mine a few times. You’re incredibly irritating and spoiled sometimes, sure, but it can be endearing.” She glared at him but he continued, unfazed. “And Lyssa…she really feels like a daughter to me, you know? And I think she considers me a father figure.”

           That drove down a hard wall between them. Lucia clenched her fists. “You do not get to decide what you are to Lyssa,” she said. “Lyssa is my daughter. You do not get to decide what sort of role you play in her life.”

           Jonas glared back. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be here to raise her. Fate said I was supposed to do it alone, remember? I was there at her actual birth, and I’ve been there almost every moment since. The only thing I missed was actually conceiving her, and I think we’ve more than made up for that,” he snapped, motioning to his bare frame again.

           The heat in Lucia’s cheeks went from embarrassment to fury. Her elementia pulled on the cold air outside, bringing it flooding into the room. “Don’t talk about Alexius like he was nothing. Don’t talk about him like he was some servant I might have forgotten the name of.” Tears burned her eyes. “I loved him, Jonas! He is Lyssa’s father, and nothing is going to change that.”

           Jonas pulled the blanket up around himself, wincing as the cold wind stung his face. “Lucia, Alexius is dead. He’s not coming back. You’ve got a lot of life left to live. Please tell me you’re not planning to spend all of it hung up on him?”

           The icy wind began to spin faster, causing the curtains and the drapes on her four-poster bed to snap loudly as the wind nearly tore them from their anchors. Papers blew from the desk and scattered around the room. How dare he, how dare he imply that she pretend Alexius hadn’t happened, that he take the place of father in Lyssa’s life. How dare he suggest that Alexius, with whom she had been given precious little time, just be pushed aside. The tears were rolling down Lucia’s cheeks now, but there was too much, too much in her head for her to able to say anything in reply.

           “Okay, okay, hey!” Jonas said, pulling the quilts up over his head. His next words were muffled by them. “Look, it doesn’t just have to be Lyssa! We could have a few kids of our own!”

           Lucia was so startled that she lost her grip on the elementia completely. The wind vanished, and suddenly the room was still and silent again. She stared at Jonas, her mouth agape. Children? He…wanted to start a family with her?

           “What, like husband and wife? With a hundred happy little babies crawling around us?” she said. Her voice was thick with the tears, but she forced a half laugh, like Jonas might say it was a joke.

           He poked his head out from the blankets. “Well…yeah,” he said, somewhat sheepishly.

           Lucia blinked, then put her hands on her hips. “Jonas Agallon, this has to be the worst proposal in the history of Mytica.”

           Jonas looked bewildered. “What was I supposed to do? We’re not having some nice, traditional courtship. And I’ll remind you that I tried to have this conversation like a civilized person and you’re the one who started magicking stuff around the room.”

           With a raise of her eyebrow, Lucia asked, “Have you ever done anything like a civilized person?”

           “There was no civilization in Paelsia when I was growing up. We were too busy digging up grubs to eat and fucking in the mud.” Lucia curled her nose in distaste, even though she knew he was joking. He grinned at her. “See? Imagine this, Lucia. All the teasing, all the lovemaking, but without the whispering and the hiding and the pretending these feelings aren’t there. We could be happy.”

           She could see it. She could see a life, with Jonas sitting with her and Lyssa at the dinner table, taking her on horse rides, walking with her through town, lying in her bed and not having to leave in the morning. She could see Lyssa with little siblings, round and soft like Magnus and Cleo’s babies. It was…the life she had always dreamed of, before the war, before she was the sorceress. Back when she was nothing more than Princess Lucia, the younger Damora sibling.

           Dropping her eyes to the floor, Lucia moved back towards the window. “Jonas…,” she whispered. The sun was really rising now. She was probably going to miss her morning meeting.

           The bed creaked as Jonas rose from it and walked over to her. “Hey,” he said softly, and she realized that she was crying again. Gentle tears this time, tears from the part of her, the part she tried so hard to ignore, that knew that even if Alexius had lived, she could never have had her happy ending with him. That Lyssa’s conception had been a mistake made by a young princess in way over her head, who was more than happy to slip her dress off for someone so handsome and flattering. Maybe he had really loved her. Maybe he hadn’t. Somehow, it didn’t matter, no matter how much she might wish it did. Jonas reached over and brushed a couple of the tears from her cheeks.

           She looked sideways at him. “Put some pants on, Jonas,” she said.

           Jonas looked down at himself. “Oh. Right.” She shook her head as he found his pants and tugged them on. How could she go from loving a man like Alexius to loving a man like this?

           Lucia began to sketch designs in ice on the open window pane. She made a flower, then a bejeweled ring, then the Limerian crest.

           “And here I thought your brother was the artist,” Jonas said, coming back to look over her shoulder. Lucia flushed. Her doodles barely resembled what they were supposed to. It looked nothing like Magnus’s work.

           Magnus…By the goddess, Magnus. What would he say to all of this? The idea of her marrying the son of a Paelsian wine seller…he would never allow it. Even if that Paelsian was Jonas. Perhaps especially not then.

           “Jonas, I…I don’t think it would be a good idea,” she said, keeping her gaze focused on the grounds below.

           Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jonas cross his arms. “Why not?” he asked.

           She pushed her hair behind her ears. “I just…I don’t…” How could she put it into words? There were innumerable reasons why they couldn’t be married, but she didn’t feel like she could say a single one of them out loud. She had spent too much of her life reading not to be a romantic. If this was true love, none of those things should matter. And yet…and yet…

           “Hey,” Jonas said, gently taking her shoulders and turning her to face him. “I, uh, know I’m not the best at reading people, but please tell me I haven’t messed this up that badly. You do have these feelings too, don’t you?”

           Lucia looked up at him. His brown eyes were worried beneath his furrowed brow. She wanted to go up on tiptoe and kiss the crease there.

           “Yes,” she admitted finally. “Yes, Jonas, I have these feelings for you too.”

           Jonas’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank the goddess,” he sighed. Then he paused. “Well, then what’s the issue? We made it through a war with an infant in our arms. I’m sure we can work out a solution to whatever you’re worried about.”

           “Isn’t it obvious?” Lucia asked, the words painful in her throat. “I’m a Limerian princess, Jonas. I can’t marry a peasant boy from Paelsia.”

           Jonas bristled immediately. “You’re technically Paelsian too.”

           Cold spiked Lucia’s stomach. “I was raised in Limeros. And even my Paelsian heritage was noble. As noble as they had, at least.”

           “I can’t believe that after everything, after we fought together in the war and after all that I’ve done for the kingdom as a steward for the king, your brother, you have the nerve to call me a peasant like I’m some beggar you scraped up off the street. If I was nothing more than a whore to you, Lucia, then I’d like my payment. With all that you owe me, I could buy a fine home in Paelsia, and you would never have to see me again. Would that make you happy, princess?” He spat the last word.

           Lucia winced. This was all wrong, all wrong. Why did he have to initiate this conversation now? Why did they have to have this conversation at all? Things had been fine when it was just them, enjoying themselves. All of this was…messy. Complicated. She did not want these feelings, for him or for anyone. They had already proven to her how toxic they could be.

           “No,” she whispered, looking away from him again. “No, that would not make me happy.”

           Jonas threw up his hands. “Then tell which you consider the lesser of two evils, Lucia. Either you want me around enough that you’ll marry me, or this was temporary enough that I can leave and move on. I’m not going to stay here like this forever, Lucia. I’ve had enough of war, enough of running, enough of change. I want to settle down.

“I love you. I have no idea why, but I do. And you know, if I’m moving a little too fast, we can try a real courtship. I’ll, like, take you to town for walks and shit. We can kiss in the hedge maze. Whatever you want. But this keeping your bed warm stuff? I can’t keep doing it, as fun as it is in the moment. I don’t want to just be some pet to the ice queen.”

           Lucia dropped her head, wrapping her arms around herself. “Jonas, please, I…I can’t—”

           “Why?” Jonas demanded. “If you have these feelings for me, if you want this future, then why can’t we try it out?”

           “Because it’s all wrong!” Lucia blurted, finally spinning around to face him.

           There was anger burning in his eyes. “Lucia Damora, I always knew you were a spoiled bitch, but if the fact that I wasn’t born royalty is this much of an obstacle—”

           “No!” she interrupted. “Not that you’re not noble. That this is my future at all!” Her words made Jonas pause, looking confused and wary. “I’m the immortal sorceress reborn. I have endless elementia at my disposal. There was a war fought, kingdoms brought down, lives lost because of me. And at the end of all of that, after all of this pain and suffering, I just settle down? That cannot be all that’s in store for me.”

           And it was out. She stared at Jonas, panting. She took a deep breath that turned into a shuddering sob. “Why put me through all of this just to give me the same ending as everyone else? Why not just leave me alone?”

           And she began to cry again, this time in heaving sobs that made her shoulders tremble. That terrible, gnawing thought that had fed on her mind for months now was finally out, out of her mouth, out in the open.

           Hesitantly, Jonas took a step towards her. Then he closed the distance between them, crushing Lucia to his still-bare chest. She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed, clutching Jonas like she might absorb comfort from him the way she had once absorbed his healing magic.

           “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Jonas murmured against her hair. “You told me once that before the war, you dreamed of having a happy family. That you dreamed of being a wife and a mother and a princess, all in one.” He kissed the part in her hair. “I know I’m no handsome immortal. And I know I sure as hell am no prince. So maybe this isn’t exactly how you always pictured that happy ending, but we can work on it. We’ll make it as best we can.”

           “Then why not just let me have that happy ending?” Lucia whispered. “Why have all this suffering, all across Mytica? It isn’t fair. There should have been…more. Fate just expects me to settle down and forget about being the sorceress, just because the threat was eliminated within a couple of years? That’s moronic.”

           Her head bumped as Jonas’s chest jerked with laughter. “Well, you remember how Fate once told me you were going to die? And that I was going to be some grand hero? Fate is stupid. It has no idea what it’s doing. I think that’s all it’s for—sticking its hands in and messing everything up. And then we’re left to clean up its mess.”

           “You are a grand hero,” Lucia reminded him. “We never would have defeated the Kindred without you.”

           Jonas made a dismissive noise. “Yeah, but you did all the cool binding-magic stuff. Look, this isn’t about me right now.”

           Lucia laughed, tilting her face up to look at him. “Jonas Agallon, I don’t think I have ever known you to not think something was about you.”

           “Hey, I’m trying to make you feel better,” Jonas said, pinching her side.

           “It’s working,” she admitted.

           Their conversation stilled as they looked at one another, morning air and meetings completely forgotten. Jonas was handsome, Lucia thought as she looked at him. Even more than he had been when they had first met. He was grown up now. A man. But a husband, her husband…

           She reached up and ran a hand through his short, dark hair. Maybe he was right. Maybe that was just how Fate was—it worked on a scale that was too grand, moving pieces when they were needed to change everything but then leaving them to figure out their individual affairs on their own. Maybe she had simply…served her purpose.

           That was not a more comforting thought. She swallowed painfully. Perhaps there would be another time in her future when her powers would come into play. But until then, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to try and claim that happy ending she had always dreamed of.

           “I won’t take your last name,” she said.

           “What?” He looked at her, startled by the change in topic.

           “If we get married,” she clarified. “’Lucia Agallon.’ It’s abhorrent, really.”

           Jonas frowned. “You think I want to become a Damora?” His nose curled.

           Lucia pulled back and lifted her chin. “It is the name of the royal family of Mytica. You should be proud to bear it.”

           “Cleo doesn’t,” Jonas pointed out.

           “Cleo’s family name is also royal. And all of their children carry the Damora name.”

           Jonas opened his mouth to argue again, then paused. “Wait. So, ‘if we get married’…does that mean that this is going to really be something permanent? Something real?”

           Lucia found herself blushing again. “I suppose so,” she said. “After all, try as I might I cannot fall for a more well-groomed and kind-mannered man, so it seems you will have to do. Besides, you were right. Lyssa is already rather fond of you.”

           With a half-laugh, Jonas’s face split into a grin. Then he grabbed Lucia again, causing her to let out a surprised squeak, and kissed her deeply on the mouth. Her face grew hot, but she pushed her fingers up through his hair and kissed him back.

           She broke the kiss by pulling back slightly. “But there is a caveat,” she said.

           Jonas stepped back. “A caveat?”

           Lucia nodded, trying to keep her smile off her face. “I have no father to consent to the marriage. Thus, you will have to ask my brother for permission to marry me.” Jonas’s expression dropped, and he went a bit pale. “If you want my hand,” Lucia continued. “Then you must get it from Magnus. A fair trade, I feel, since you have bought me no ring and do not have enough wealth to make a suitable marital offering.”

           Jonas looked at her like he hoped she might say she was joking, but she wasn’t. If she and Jonas were to be married, it was high time he and her brother learned to get along.

           “Alright,” Jonas said. “Fine. I can see how that’s fair, I guess. When he and Cleo come up with the new baby next month, I’ll talk to him. Does that seem suitable, your highness?” He exaggerated the last two words and bowed to her obnoxiously.

           She snorted. “Oh, hush, that seems fine. Stand up.” He did, and she moved up to him and put her arms around his neck.

           He bent down and kissed her again, his mouth as warm and rough as ever. Yes, she could be happy like this. Having someone to make her laugh. Having someone to kiss when she was excited or stressed or even just content.  Having someone to wake up next to without having to shoo him out of the room before the servants came in.