Claire looks up, her eyes sparkling. “You absolutely sound like that. Ask anyone.”
“I’m the King. No one would dare agree with you.”
“Marta, does my husband sound like that when he’s grumpy?”
Marta doesn’t look up from her folding. “I’m afraid I cannot comment, Your Majesty. I value my employment.”
Claire grins triumphantly. “That’s a yes.”
I shake my head, but I’m smiling. I can’t help it. Two years of marriage and she still gets under my skin in the best possible way. She still argues with me and calls me out when I’m being unreasonable. And she still looks at me with love in her eyes on a daily basis.
I never expected this any of this.
I think about my parents sometimes, how they had the Blood Calling too, how rare that was among royals. They would have loved Claire. My mother would have adored her sharp tongue and kind heart. My father would have respected how she stood up to the Council, how she won over an entire kingdom just by being herself.
Both Claire and I lost our parents too young. It’s something we understood about each other from the beginning, that particular loneliness, that hollow space where family should be. But we’re building something new now. Something that’s ours.
“Papa.” The book is over and Alexei reaches for me, his small arms stretched out, his dark eyes fixed on my face.
My chest tightens. I cross the room and lift my son from Claire’s lap. He’s warm and solid in my arms, smelling of baby soap and the lavender oil Marta uses. His tiny hand pats my cheek, right where my jaw meets my throat.
“Papa,” he says again, satisfied.
“That’s right.” My voice comes out rougher than I intend. “I’m here.”
Claire watches us with soft eyes. In moments like this, I see the fourteen-year-old girl who put a poster on her wall and dreamed of meeting a vampire prince. I see the woman who walked into a blizzard to save me from herself. I see my queen, the female who recently completed her master’s degree, and the mother of my child.
I will never deserve her, but I will spend every day trying.
Marta rises and crosses to us, arms outstretched. “Come now, little prince. Time for sleep.”
Alexei goes to her willingly, his head already drooping against her shoulder. He’s fighting it, eyes fluttering, but he’s losing the battle.
“Goodnight, my love,” Claire whispers, pressing a kiss to his golden hair.
I brush my thumb across his cheek. “Sleep well, son.”
Marta carries him to his crib, humming softly, and Claire and I slip out of the nursery.
We walkthe corridor toward our chambers, her hand in mine.
“Derek called today,” she says.
“And?”
“He asked about his nephew again.” A smile tugs at her lips.
“Progress.”
“Real progress.” She squeezes my hand. “He held Alexei when he visited last month. Did I tell you that? He actually held him. And Alexei grabbed his nose and Derek laughed. Actually laughed, Nikolai. Not that bitter, angry laugh he’s had for years. A real one.”
I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles. “He’s coming around.”
“He’s trying. That’s all I ever wanted.” She’s quiet for a moment. “He still hasn’t fully let go of the conspiracy stuff. But he’s listening now. He’s asking questions instead of just... ranting. And I think I’ve gotten him convinced he really does need to start therapy to talk about what happened in his breakup with his fiancé.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah, I think so too.”
