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“Do you really think I agreed to marry you because you were going to be the next Russian President?” I step closer. “Or maybe you thought I agreed because you could make water do things with your hands. Or perhaps, you believe I said I love you because you thought I needed a massive grey horse to ride.”
“I can still shift.” He turns around.
“Oh, well then.” I can’t help my smirk. “The one thing I was going to miss the most, you still have. That’s promising.”
“You said yes, but things have changed dramatically,” Alexei says. “Big things. And unlike me, you can get a do-over.” He meets my eyes, and his are shattered. “You can change your mind. I won’t even blame you.”
I grab his hand and look at our fingers interlocked. His hand’s huge. Strong. Masculine. Mine’s small and feminine. Paler skinned. Weaker in every way.
“I love you because you’re kind,” I say. “I love you because you’re chivalrous. Because you’re brilliant. Because you’re considerate. And most of all, because you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.” I can’t help smiling when his head whips upward, our eyes finally meeting.
“You—” He splutters.
“I hated the idea of being married to someone who was stuck in the world of politics. Or tied to someone who was ruling other people. I hated the idea of living in Russia. And to be honest, the magic was cool, but I don’t need it.”
“I don’t have a family home anymore,” he says.
“I’ve never had one, remember? Welcome to real life!” I tug him closer, and he actually moves toward me. “None of us ever really have a place. We’re stuck carving a place out for ourselves, and Alexei?”
He looks up, his eyes hopeful.
“You’re the only person in the world I want next to me when I’m slicing and dicing. When I look at you, I don’t see a lame horse. I see a vibrantly strong, brave, and noble grey stallion.”
He doesn’t look like he believes me, but he doesn’t turn away either.
“I hate Leonid, because I think he’s a greedy, manipulative, genuinely bad person. But I don’t care that you don’t have your water powers. And who cares that we’re poor now? I’ve always been poor.”
“Oh, we’re not poor,” he says.
“What?” I blink.
“The Russian government, under the control of United Russia, ceded loads of land to me as reparations for the war crimes committed against my family. They thought I’d be able to use them once I took office, admittedly, but they did it legally. I also now own several palaces, which I suppose Leonid may retake. And there are countless works of priceless art that were sent my way. It’s nothing to the three hundred billion we once had, but Aleksandr says that even without the palaces and items that can’t really leave Russia, I should have well over twelve billion euros.”
I drop his hand.
“Of course, to liquidate, I’d have to sell some things I’d rather not sell, like various paintings that were restored from the museums and storage vaults the government held. Even so, I should have nearly two billion that’s usable, or so Aleks says.”
Two. Billion. Euros.
“Yes, you sure are a lame horse,” I say. “How could any girl want anything to do with you?”
“Adriana.”
I shake my head. “You’re even dumber than I thought.”
“I want to be able to protect you,” Alexei says. “My ability to do that was directly related to—”
I step into the space right in front of him and rest my head against his chest. “No one can really protect anyone else. We never have any idea what’s coming. Health. Weather. Villains. The future’s a big old question mark in the best of times. Healthy horses routinely go lame. Wells run dry. Powers get stolen.” I look up at him, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “But one thing you never have to worry about losing is my love. I’m so stubborn that you were the first man I ever loved, and you’ll be the last, Alexei Romanov. So stop trying to run away. That’s my thing.”
He traces his finger along the top of my nose, and then he runs it across the skin under my eye, down the side of my jaw, and stops, his finger resting over the base of my neck. “You weren’t easy to break,” he says. “But the best horses are worth the investment, and I plan to love you my entire life, Adriana Strelkova. However long that may be.”
“Oh, good,” I say. “Then let’s stop sulking, get out of Russia as soon as possible, and start planning our wedding.”
He kisses me then, and although there’s no stroking of phantom caresses or magical zaps of any kind, it’s still the best kiss of my life. I have a feeling that’s a measurement that’s going to just keep changing, the longer I spend with him.
I pull away and say, “How about we go—”
But that’s when I hear it.
