Logan lowers his cup, eyebrow raised. “You’re being unusually diplomatic. Now I’m worried.”
I consider how to broach the subject, then decide that directness has always served me best with Logan. “You need to consider getting Maya pregnant.”
The cup freezes halfway to his mouth. For a moment, I think he might drop it. Then he carefully sets it aside, his expression unreadable.
“That’s not what I was expecting,” he says finally.
“My apologies.”
Logan leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, studying me with those unsettling golden eyes. “And why, exactly, do Ineed to consider this? Has Maya expressed a desire for children that I’m unaware of?”
“No,” I admit. “But that’s not the point.”
“Then perhaps you could enlighten me as to what the point is?” His tone remains casual, but there’s an edge to it now—a warning I choose to ignore.
“You’re king,” I say simply. “Kings need heirs. Especially kings who’ve claimed the throne through challenge rather than succession.”
Logan’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “I’m aware of how succession works, thank you.”
“Are you?” I press, feeling the familiar rush that comes with pushing him. “Because it’s been months since you took the throne, and there’s been no announcement, no preparations. The court is starting to talk.”
“The court always talks,” Logan dismisses with a wave of his hand. “It’s what they do best, besides plotting and backstabbing.”
“This is different,” I insist. “Your position is still precarious. The old king’s supporters are watching for any sign of weakness, any reason to challenge your right to rule. An heir would cement your claim, show that the Corellian line continues through you.”
Logan leans back, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve been spending too much time with the Queen Mother. This sounds exactly like something she would say.”
I can’t deny it. Eleanora Corellian has been surprisingly supportive of her son’s killer, offering counsel that has proven invaluable in navigating the treacherous waters of court politics. But this particular concern is mine alone.
“The Queen Mother has mentioned it,” I tell him. “But his is coming from me, as your royal advisor and your friend.”
“My friend,” Logan repeats, a small smile playing at his lips. “Is that what we’re calling it these days?”
I ignore the deflection. “The nobles respect strength and continuity. An heir gives them both. It shows them you’re looking toward the future, building something that will outlast you.”
Logan studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable through the steam. Then he shrugs, reaching for his cup again. “It’s not up to me,” he says casually, as if we’re discussing the weather rather than the future of the kingdom.
I blink, caught off guard by the response. “What do you mean, it’s not up to you? You’re the king. And Maya’s primary bond is with?—“
“Cillian,” Logan finishes for me, taking another sip of water. “Maya’s primary bond is with Cillian, not me.”
The statement lands like a physical blow, momentarily stealing my ability to respond. I stare at him, trying to process what he’s just said. “Since when?”
Logan sets his cup aside again, looking almost amused at my confusion. “Since always, I thought. Surely you’ve noticed.”
“I’ve noticed they’re close,” I concede, thinking of the way Maya and Cillian gravitate toward each other. “But you were the first Alpha to bond her.“
“That doesn’t appear to matter.” Logan drawls, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the sweating wall.
I shake my head, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. “But you’re an Alpha. She’s an Omega. The biological imperative?—“
“Isn’t everything,” Logan interrupts. “I’ve made my peace with that. I suggest you do the same.”
I sit back, genuinely speechless. The Logan I knew would never have said those words, would never have accepted sharing what he considered his by right. The change in him is more profound than I realized.
“Besides,” he continues, a hint of his old arrogance returning, “I have plenty of nieces and nephews to choose an heir from if it comes to that. The Corellian bloodline is in no danger of dying out.”
“That’s surprisingly practical of you,” I manage, still trying to reconcile this new Logan with the man I’ve followed for years.
