“I said, King Dare, what do you think of Lion?”
He looked up then, puzzled. “What?”
“Ah, have you become so bored already, Your Majesty, that you pay me no attention?”
“I would think,” he drawled out, “that last night would have convinced you of the ridiculousness of that thought.”
Shaylah blushed; it had been an amazing night. She didn’t even care that the others had smiled knowingly as their king and queen, after a particularly heated look across a room crowded with royal guests, had disappeared for the rest of the anniversary party.
“Then tell me what you think,” she said, recovering her poise. “I think it most appropriate. I always thought of you like that, like the last Arellian golden lion, captured but never conquered. Or perhaps Lyon, with a Y?”
Dare made a low, growling sound and pulled her down on his lap. “Now, my queen, will you please make sense?”
“I was making sense,” she said in mock protest. “I think it has a nice ring to it, don’t you? ‘Prince Lyon of Trios,’” she quoted grandly.
Dare’s golden brows furrowed. “Prince? I don’t—” He broke off, staring at her. “Shaylah,” he whispered, “you don’t mean . . . ?”
She reached for his hand and placed it on her still flat belly. A wide, loving smile flashed across her face. “You can tell Glendar to quit nagging you about producing an heir, my love.”
He clutched at her, burying his face between her breasts. “I didn’t think . . . didn’t dare hope . . .”
“I know,” she said gently. “That’s why I waited until I was certain. And until Alcaron told me I was safely past the most critical time.”
“God, Shaylah . . .” She heard him swallow thickly. “My father always used to say he wished for me, not the glory of the throne, or the power, but something much more important. To love as he loved my mother, I don’t think I ever understood that . . . before you. But I know now that he was right.”
“As will our son,” Shaylah whispered. “And what better gift could we give him?”
Close in each other’s arms, they lingered a moment to savor it between them before they announced to their regained world that the next generation would have its leader.
The End
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About the Author
“Some people call me a writer, some an author, some a novelist. I just say I’m a storyteller.”
—Justine Dare Davis
Author of more than 60 books, (she sold her first ten in less than two years) Justine Dare Davis is a four time winner of the coveted RWA RITA Award, and has been inducted into the RWA Hall of Fame. Her books have appeared on national best seller lists, including USA Today. She has been featured on CNN, taught at several national and international conferences, and at the UCLA writer’s program.
After years of working in law enforcement, and more years doing both, Justine now writes full time. She lives near beautiful Puget Sound in Washington State, peacefully coexisting with deer, bears, raccoons, a newly arrived covey of quail, a pair of bald eagles, and her beloved ’67 Corvette roadster. When she’s not writing, taking photographs, looking for music to blast in said roadster, or driving said roadster (and yes, it goes very fast), she tends to her knitting. Literally.
Find out more at her website and blog (where she posts some of those photos) at justinedavis.com, Facebook at JustineDareDavis (which also gets photos) or Twitter @Justine_D_Davis (which mostly gets odd observations, favorite quotes, interesting links, and the occasional question flung into the ether.)
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