Ella

Conner opened my car door and gave an odd little bow as I stepped out.

"What on earth was that?" I asked, grinning.

Conner, to his credit, blushed slightly and shrugged. "I don't know. You're a queen now. Aren't I supposed to bow?"

I wrinkled my nose. "I have no idea," I said, laughing. I was pleased when he laughed with me and closed the car door. "But since neither of us knows, maybe we should cut it out?"

"All right," he said with a grin, looking toward the restaurant where Calvin had asked me to meet him. I was thrilled to be out of the palace for the first time in weeks, and pleased that the meeting had been kept quiet enough to avoid the press.

"I'm glad you're here, Conner," I said quietly, taking a deep breath.

"Anytime, Luna," he murmured, remaining close beside me as we walked up the stairs.

Relieved, I saw that the restaurant was dimly lit and only about half full. Patrons were seated in deep booths, so I could only see the tops of their heads. I smiled, thinking the prince had chosen his venue well.

"This way, Highness," a young woman said, smiling and leading me not into the dining room, but toward a small elevator. The three of us were a bit crowded, but the ride to the second floor was short. When the doors slid open, the young woman smiled and gestured into a small, pretty private dining room. There was even a small balcony terrace outside that looked gorgeous in the moonlight.

Calvin was sitting alone at a table, looking at his phone with a half-full glass of wine. When I entered, he looked up and smiled.

And damn it, he was really good-looking. Not as good-looking as Sinclair—at least, not to me—but the way his smile lit up his face, those cheekbones, those violet eyes?

Damn.

I didn't have much time to dwell on it before he stood and offered his hand, inviting me to the table.

I smiled, genuinely, as I crossed the room to take his hand. That familiar electric buzz passed between us as he leaned forward, murmuring a greeting and intending to brush a kiss against my cheek—nothing inappropriate, nothing that wouldn't be acceptable between an ambassador and a queen.

But he flinched at the last moment, and I smirked, suspecting he'd sensed how strongly Sinclair had marked me as his.

Calvin hesitated, as if tempted, then pulled away.

Still, something fluttered within me at his nearness.

What the hell was going on?

"I'm so glad you came," Calvin said, gesturing to my seat. Then, to my surprise, he looked past me at Conner, who was standing a few paces behind. "Will you be joining us?"

I turned to Conner, raising my eyebrows.

"No," Conner said, nodding and smiling slightly. "I'm fine over here," he gestured to a small couch in the corner, where he'd be close enough to protect me but far enough to give us privacy.

Calvin nodded, and Conner moved away. I smiled as I sat down.

"Honestly," Calvin said, hesitating slightly, "I wasn't sure if you were coming."

"I'm sorry I'm late," I said, though I wasn't really sorry. My mate needed reassurance, and I was happy to give it to him, even at Calvin's expense.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, studying me, trying to gauge my comfort. "I know nine in the evening is late for dinner in your culture—"

I smiled, pleased by his solicitousness. I got the impression this dinner was for conversation, but if I was hungry, he wanted me to eat.

"Actually, I am a little hungry," I said, leaning forward with a laugh. "And thirsty, if there's more wine."

"Always more wine," he murmured, signaling to a waiter I hadn't noticed. The waiter filled my glass.

"I haven't had much to drink lately," I said quietly, raising the glass and savoring the rich red wine. "But one can't hurt, can it?"

"Can't hurt what?" Calvin asked, leaning forward, curious. He frowned, genuinely confused.

"The baby," I said, looking at him as if it were obvious. He took a long sip of his wine. "Rafe's only a few months old—I'm still breastfeeding, Calvin."

Then I stopped and burst into laughter, as Calvin choked slightly on his wine and turned beet red.

"Seriously?" I said, leaning forward, unable to contain my grin. "Should I not have said that? Is that embarrassing for you?"

He cleared his throat and looked down, embarrassed, though I saw him smiling and shaking his head. "No, Highness, it's—"

"Ella," I corrected, my voice pleading.

"Ella," he said, looking up, more comfortable now. "It's justhonestly, I've never heard a woman say that before."

"Really?" I said, leaning forward, widening my eyes, and setting my glass down. "I mean, did you know—"

"Of course I know," he said, laughing and rolling his eyes. "I understand the mechanics of how babies are fed, it's just" He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "Honestly, Ella, women in my world never, ever talk to men about that sort of thing. And it's not that I agree with that, or think they shouldn't; I was justsurprised."

Slowly, I shook my head, holding his gaze. "You know I think that's crazy, right?"

He laughed, nodding, and I laughed with him.

"I do know that," Calvin said with a sigh. "And I agree. It iscrazy, that in my world women and men are so separate. It's something I'd like to see changed, but it's so ingrained in our culture that it will take generations to shift."

I nodded, understanding. Then I tilted my head, interested in how easy this conversation already was. Even though we were discussing a complicated topic that was difficult for him, the conversation felt like talking with an old friend, someone I'd known my whole life.

I wasn't surprised, then, when the conversation flowed easily. Calvin asked questions about my life, and I told him everything readily—about Cora, my sweet baby Rafe, growing up in the orphanage, and the strange way I met my mate. I kept back some details—he didn't need to know about my powers, or that my mother is a deity—but the rest I shared.

I noticed he readily moved on whenever I spoke about Sinclair, but honestly, I didn't ask much about his wife. I wondered why, trying to figure out what part of me was holding back. Because I was interested in her—fascinated, really, dying to know—but for some reason, I just didn't ask.

We talked for hours, learning much more about each other. Food arrived, and we ate, though I don't know if I tasted it, because I was lost in conversation filled with laughter and joy.

When a clock in the corner chimed midnight, my jaw dropped. "Has it really been that long?" I said, marveling and shaking my head. My companion—my friend now, undeniably.

Calvin grimaced. "We have a saying," he said with a shrug, "that mice wait for good friends to lose themselves in each other, and that's when they eat all the grain."

"Really?" I said, wrinkling my nose, charmed.

"Yes," he said, leaning back and laughing. "So, when you have a mouse problem in your home, people dismiss it as a sign of a house full of friendship and laughter."

"Oh," I said, smiling and nodding. "Like how we say it's good luck if a bird poops on you."

He blinked, shocked. "Wha—what!?"

I burst into laughter again, leaning back and letting the joy sweep over me. Of course, if you didn't grow up hearing that, it's just gross, isn't it?

"Just something we say," I said, wiping my eyes, my body still shaking with mirth. "I think it's to make people feel better when that happens."

He laughed too, grinning and understanding.

I sighed and looked at Conner, who was still on the couch, scrolling through his phone. "I guess I should—"

"Stay," Calvin said suddenly, his voice serious, and I felt his hand on mine.

Whatever was between us—that thing that happened when we touched—swept through me, making my hair stand on end.

Calvin looked up, his eyes pleading, and I knew he felt it too. "Please, Ella," he said quietly, glancing toward the terrace. "One more drink—just to round out the night."

I bit my lip, knowing I shouldn't, but

"All right," I said quietly, nodding, and not removing my hand from his.