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“No, you with those little kids was the highlight.”
I laughed at how he said kids…like he really meant to say monsters. “I like kids. They are sweet, honest.”
“They are walking biohazards. There is always snot or a smell…”
“A smell, Gale!”
“I’m serious. They are just slightly better than dogs because they grow up.”
“If anyone heard you, they’d think you were the coldhearted monster.”
He shrugged and drank.
“Well, you’re just going to have to get over it,” I said.
“Of course, I am. I’ve already gotten used to spoiled little Persephone. The kids…well, I’ll at least get used to ours.”
I grinned. We hadn’t exactly talked about kids…not since…not since I lost one. I never even got to really find out or tell him until it was already too late. That night I returned to the palace, he and I just held each other…kind of like we were now. He asked me if I was all right. He let me cry on his shoulder a little. But we never really talked more than that, and that was fine because I wasn’t sure what to say then.
“Odette,” he whispered, lifting up my chin, searching my eyes. “What thoughts am I losing you to?”
“Nothing.”
“No, we are going to come to talk to each other more, not less. What are you thinking of? I’ll share first, if you like.”
“I like,” I said, turning on his lap, straddling him. “What are you thinking of…and not sexually.”
“Darn it,” he mumbled, but then he became serious. “The moment you looked down and away from me, I thought this is another reason why I will never forgive Ambrose.”
“Is there still pressure for you to pardon him?”
“Growing pressure.” He frowned. “They are just thinking about it from the legal aspect. Everyone agrees what he did to you was wrong, of course.” He mocked that, of course, saying it with a grimace. “He poisoned you. That is a horrid enough experience and memory to have. But the added layer is how it haunts us. How when we think of children between us, we have to think about the one we might have had had someone not been…so cruel. When I brought it up now, you wouldn’t have had to look away. You wouldn’t have been forced to think of that memory again.”
He was right.
“I try not to think about it often,” I said, looking back down at my wine glass. “But you’re right. And what is worse is I don’t always know how I’m supposed to feel about it.”
“Feel whatever you like. Just tell me,” he replied, kissing my shoulder. “I was thinking about this during our war.”
“War?”
“Yes, our cold war,” he repeated. “We should have some secret codes for us.”
“Like?”
“What will we do when we need to talk in private?”
“Don’t we just clear the room?” I asked, tapping his lips.
“That’s not always possible. And it’s not just for when we need to talk. A whole bunch of things. Like when one of us wants to leave an event. Or stay longer or whatever else.”
“We are just going to build our own secret language?” I grinned. “Blink twice for no, stuff like that? Raising an eyebrow?”
“You don’t want to?”
“I want to!” I giggled. It would be something just between us two.
We talked all night.
