But you and I - " he brushes the collar of the gown aside - "are students of knowledge. We believe in careful practice to attain perfection.

How do women all know what to do with babies? It's like they have their own special kind of sorcery.

Hector, I have to ask. Do you want to be an emperor? Because I could make you one. You could be my equal in rank, with just as much authority. Tristán still owes me votes on the Quorum. We could ram an edict through—”

“No need,” he says, reaching up to brush my bottom lip with his thumb. “I’m a good leader, but you’re a great ruler. I am strong enough—man enough—to be subject to you.

But none of it will be real. None of them will want me. My throne, yes. Prestige. A conquest. But not me.

Well, we'll have no more of such foolishness," I say harshly, to cover the wavering in my voice. "We're getting married, and that's that.

His gaze drops to my lips. "I shouldn't do this--"
"You really should." And I close the distance between us.