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“I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us, ever again,” Vesuvius told her. “I want to marry you. I want you to be my wife. You are right when you say that it is unlikely the kingdom will take its claws out of me, but whatever role I play, it will be a smaller one. And it will never take precedence over us. This I promise you.”

He held her gaze so long then that his own eyes burned. “I don’t want a life in the royal court. I want you. I want us. I want a quiet house on Christmas morning, the smell of sugar in the air, and us. I want to help you raise that little girl. I want to make more babies, and over my dead body will you ever find yourself pregnant or giving birth alone again. I have always felt that we were meant to know each other forever, and I want to make that so. I want every last forever there is, every last forever that was ever invented.”

She was crying openly then, but she was smiling. He indicated the box that he still held.

“Say yes,” he urged her, “and you will make me the happiest and most undeserving man in the world. And I will make absolutely certain you are as happy as possible in return, with every part of who I am.”

“I believe you,” she said.

And then Aeryn slid off the couch, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him, as if she, too, didn’t much care that they weren’t alone.

“Marry me,” he said against her mouth. “I beg of you.”

She pulled back and she looked down at the ring, and another smile curved her lips. Then she held out her hand, and he took the ring from the box so he could slide it into place.

And was not at all surprised that it fit perfectly.

Thank you, Mother, he thought.

After all, his mother had always appreciated a work of art. And that was certainly how he would describe the woman before him.

“You are the only wife I’ve ever wanted,” he told her. “You are certainly the only wife I’ve ever chosen. I never believed in Christmas miracles until I found myself at your door, and you have the power to give me another one. Marry me, Aeryn.”

She leaned in closer, and she kissed him. “I will,” she said. “I will, Vesuvius.”

And both of her parents cheered, loudly, reminding him that they were there at all.

Aeryn laughed, and he did too. The baby woke up, and then she was giggling madly, climbing down from the chair to find her way over to the two of them.

Where Faith kissed her mother on the face, and then him, too, and if there was a better miracle than this, Vesuvius had never heard of it.

But he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had finally made it home, where he belonged.

Chapter Twelve

She did marry him, but she made him wait.

Three years, in fact. When he complained, as he did often, and usually while they were naked, Aeryn would laugh. Then tell him that to her recollection, he had made a lot of promises about spending his life proving himself, and she did not recall a time limit.

And anyway, it wasn’t as if he minded.

He adopted Faith, so there was that legal protection, and that was good enough to start.

They were both right that the kingdom wasn’t quite ready to let him go. After a lot of talk about how he could be of service—but not flattened by it—he had the great pleasure of becoming First Minister to Saviero, a move that pleased them both. Particularly because Vesuvius’s ministerial role was not confined to the palace.

That had the benefit of him not stepping on the new queen’s toes, or appearing to rule from behind the throne, and—more important, to his mind—getting to marinate in his family, the way he wanted.

When Aeryn had their second child, clearly conceived that Christmas, Vesuvius was with her. They greeted their first son together, a tradition that they continued with the next two children as well.

They lived in her house when they were in Chicago, where he had a security guesthouse built in the back because the fact remained that his death or kidnapping or any other such attempt would affect the reigning monarch of Liandero negatively. So security was required.

But nobody was likely to come find him there, and he thought everyone knew that. They spent a large portion of their time in Liandero, where Vesuvius got to show his woman and children the country he loved. And found he enjoyed experiencing it as more of a private citizen himself.

Sintia mounted a nasty little campaign or two, but they never gained any traction. Her narrative didn’t quite hold up, since Vesuvius had…literally left the kingdom for the woman he loved, when everybody knew his own grandfather had simply carried on as he liked once the heirs were in place.

Without his having to say a word, Lianderoans came around to thinking that Vesuvius—and the kingdom—had dodged a bullet when it came to the near-queen.

Aeryn and Vesuvius raised their children with as little staff as possible. They involved themselves in every way they could. The house was loud, sometimes chaotic, but their bedroom was an oasis—with, once the children were old enough—a lock on their door.