Page 164 of The Demon Tide

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” she asks.

He gives her a rueful look. “Because I never once imagined that you could possibly feel for me what I was feeling for you.”

“Why?” Lucretia asks, stunned. “Because I was constantly feigning interest in one cursed Gardnerian suitor after another? To escape fasting?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You just never gave any indication.”

Lucretia loosens a sigh. “If we could read affinities like Lupines and Wyverns, this would have been a lot easier.”

“What would I have read in you, Lucretia?”

“That I have loved you ever since I first laid eyes on you,” she says, her voice breaking. “You would have been swept under by an overwhelming tide.” With a trembling hand, Lucretia reaches into her tunic pocket, draws out a small vial of herbs, and sets it decidedly down on the table between them.

Jules stills, his eyes on the vial, his gaze lifting to Lucretia’s in question.

“Sanjire root,” she says as heat spreads up her neck, her voice stilted with nerves. “I’d like to stay the night. With you. Be my Xishlon’vir, Jules Kristian.”

Jules swallows as he focuses on the herbs. Unmoving. “I have nothing to offer you, Lucretia,” he says, voice low and taut with feeling. “I’m a powerless history professor in a world about to descend into chaos.”

“You could become Lupine if you want power.”

His head bobs in silent amusement. He shoots her a knowing glance. “I prefer to be the alpha of my own life. It’s a trade-off.”

Lucretia lets out a short laugh. “Yes. I can’t picture you deferring to anything but your own mind.”

He returns her affectionate smile. “And you’re quite the same. Only with Level Four magery.”

“So, I’ll protect you.”

Jules grins as they consider each other for a moment.

“You could have your pick of men,” he says, growing serious again. “Men with more normal lives.”

“Oh, really,” Lucretia returns. “I’ve spent almost my entire life dressed like a Styvian Gardnerian. And for much of the past year, I’ve sported one of those wretched Vogel armbands. What type of men do you thinkthatattracted?”

Jules’s lips quirk. “Not quite the pick of the litter?”

“Not really.”

“You’re not in the West anymore.” He lets his gaze roam over her, a sudden, unguarded glint in his eyes as he takes in her formfitting, rose-festooned Xishlon dress, following the curves of her body. “And you certainly don’t look like a Styvian anymore.” He smiles suggestively at her. “See what happens? You give me a glimmer of permission and now I’m ogling you without reservation.”

“How long have you noticed me?” she asks, delight in her tone.

“Averylong time,” he softly admits, then grows quiet, his whole self constrained, but the obvious desire in his gaze sends a stream of heat rippling through Lucretia’s water power.

“Lucretia,” he finally says, his tone grave. “I’ve set myself against the full might of the Gardnerians. And the Alfsigr Elves. How do you think that’s going to play out?”

Lucretia considers this with a tilt of her head. “Not well. But since I won’t stop helping refugees flee Eastandam about to be deployed West, I’d say my future looks about as predictable as yours.”

“I’m bringing chaos to the tranquil Eastern Realm.”

“Chaos is coming for the tranquil Eastern Realm,” Lucretia throws down. “You’re bringing their only chance for a future. They’re too divided and dependent on a monolithic magical system. If that falls and the Gardnerians invade, their main line of protection will be the Smaragdalfar and all those Fae youth in the Vu Trin forces—and they’re all here because of you.”

“Not just me.”

More quiet.

“I love you, Jules,” she says, her eyes glassing over. “I have for years, and now you know.”

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