"I demand proof that she isn't mine," I say with exaggerated outrage. "Look at her! The imperial glare? The masterful manipulation of everyone around her? The absolute certainty that she deserves whatever she wants? She's clearly a Corellian."
Maya rolls her eyes, but I catch the relief in her smile.
"Besides," I continue, leaning closer to stage-whisper over Amarynth's head, "as king, I can have anyone who questions her parentage thrown in the palace dungeons. Convenient, isn't it?"
"Very," Maya agrees dryly.
I release Amarynth's ears to steal another quick kiss from Maya. "Biology is vastly overrated. She's ours in all the ways that matter."
Amarynth chooses this moment to grab a handful of my carefully prepared fish and smash it against her face, grinning triumphantly at her accomplishment.
"See?" I gesture proudly. "Absolute confidence in her actions regardless of the mess they create. She's definitely taking after her father."
Maya's laugh is full and genuine this time. "Impossible man," she mutters, reaching for a napkin to clean our daughter's face.
As I watch them—Maya's gentle hands, Amarynth's trusting eyes—I feel a fullness in my chest that sometimes still takes me by surprise. This family we've created, pieced together from brokenness and chance and choice, is more precious to me than any bloodline could ever be.
"I meant what I said," I tell Maya quietly as Amarynth becomes engrossed in attempting to stack pieces of carrot. "She's ours. I couldn't love her more if she shared my DNA."
Maya's eyes meet mine, and I see in them the same fierce protectiveness, the same unconditional love that I feel.
"I know," she says simply. "That's one of the reasons I love you."
My heart stutters in my chest. Did I hear her correctly? Those three words—so simple, yet so profound—hang in the air between us. Words Maya has never spoken before, not to me.
"What did you just say?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Maya blinks, her cheeks flushing as she seems to replay her own words in her mind. When realization dawns, her eyes widen slightly. "I... nothing. I was just?—"
"No." I shake my head, leaning closer. "You said you love me."
The flush on her cheeks deepens, spreading down her neck. She busies herself with wiping a nonexistent smudge from Amarynth's face, avoiding my gaze. "Don't make it a thing, Logan."
"It is a thing," I insist, unable to keep the wonder from my voice. "It's a very significant thing."
Amarynth chooses this moment to fling a piece of carrot across the garden, gurgling with delight at her newfound talent for projectiles. Maya lunges to catch it, grateful for the distraction.
"Amarynth," she scolds gently, though there's no real reproach in her voice. "Food is for eating, not throwing."
I refuse to be derailed. Reaching out, I capture Maya's hand in mine, drawing her attention back. "Say it again," I request softly.
"Logan—"
"Please."
Her expression softens at the naked vulnerability in my voice. For all my power, all my authority, I'm reduced to pleading for three simple words from this remarkable woman.
Maya sighs, shaking her head with fond exasperation. "You're impossible."
"I'm persistent," I correct. "It's one of my better qualities."
A small smile plays at the corners of her mouth. "Is it? I always considered it one of your most annoying traits."
"Maya." I lift her hand to my lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "Please."
She meets my eyes then, and the emotion I see there steals my breath. Despite everything we've been through—the forced bonding, the rebellion, the struggles to rebuild a kingdom—something beautiful has grown between us. Something neither of us expected or sought.
"Fine," she relents, her voice softening. "I love you."
