Lucretia lets out a short laugh. “Yes. I can’t picture you deferring to anything but your own mind.”

He returns her affectionate smile. “And you’re quite the same. Only with Level Four magery.”

“So, I’ll protect you.”

Jules grins as they consider each other for a moment.

“You could have your pick of men,” he says, growing serious again. “Men with more normal lives.”

“Oh, really,” Lucretia returns. “I’ve spent almost my entire life dressed like a Styvian Gardnerian. And for much of the past year, I’ve sported one of those wretched Vogel armbands. What type of men do you think that attracted?”

Jules’s lips quirk. “Not quite the pick of the litter?”

“Not really.”

“You’re not in the West anymore.” He lets his gaze roam over her, a sudden, unguarded glint in his eyes as he takes in her formfitting, rose-festooned Xishlon dress, following the curves of her body. “And you certainly don’t look like a Styvian anymore.” He smiles suggestively at her. “See what happens? You give me a glimmer of permission and now I’m ogling you without reservation.”

“How long have you noticed me?” she asks, delight in her tone.

“A very long time,” he softly admits, then grows quiet, his whole self constrained, but the obvious desire in his gaze sends a stream of heat rippling through Lucretia’s water power.

“Lucretia,” he finally says, his tone grave. “I’ve set myself against the full might of the Gardnerians. And the Alfsigr Elves. How do you think that’s going to play out?”

Lucretia considers this with a tilt of her head. “Not well. But since I won’t stop helping refugees flee East and am about to be deployed West, I’d say my future looks about as predictable as yours.”

“I’m bringing chaos to the tranquil Eastern Realm.”

“Chaos is coming for the tranquil Eastern Realm,” Lucretia throws down. “You’re bringing their only chance for a future. They’re too divided and dependent on a monolithic magical system. If that falls and the Gardnerians invade, their main line of protection will be the Smaragdalfar and all those Fae youth in the Vu Trin forces—and they’re all here because of you.”

“Not just me.”

More quiet.

“I love you, Jules,” she says, her eyes glassing over. “I have for years, and now you know.”

Jules holds her intense gaze. “I love you too, Lucretia.”

She smiles crookedly, joy bursting into being. “Well, at least that’s out in the open now. Our sordid secret.”

Jules laughs and sits back, regarding her with open warmth.

“There’s a tradition to this festival,” she says, feeling giddy and lit up. “You’re supposed to kiss someone you love under the lavender moon. It brings good luck for the entire year and a blessing from Vo.”