The First Rank Ambassador adjusted his cufflinks, twisting the patterned disks so they lay straight, and glanced at the woman, brushing her dark hair while sitting on the bed. Her formal evening gown’s full skirts were rucked up to pool around her, and his practiced smile grew into something real at the way the gown emphasized the increased softness of her waistline.
“What has you so happy, love?” The woman’s answering smile was tainted with a mix of emotions the Ambassador, even after all these years, had trouble reading. “I thought we’d be fighting your demons all night.”
His smile faded at the reminder, but he shook his head.
“My sweet Regent. You slew them all, one by one.” Her arms had surrounded him when a Butterfly delivered word that his older brother was ill. Her fingers had clasped his when the white sheets obscured a face as familiar as his own. Her back had stood before him when the previous Ambassador’s vitriol spewed forth, denouncing him — again — as worthless.
Tears no one else ever saw blurred his sight as he crossed the room and captured one precious hand, and he pressed a kiss to the calloused fingertips.
“Are you ready?” He searched her face.
“Of course,” she said, rising from the bed. She winced and pressed a hand to her back. “Though I’d prefer it were over.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and lay her head on his shoulder, and his smile warmed once more.
“Soon, my Regent. Soon.” His fingers found the ornate bracelet on her right wrist, traced their way to the crys-com embedded in the metal, and checked that its illusion still ran. Still concealed his heart.
