Imogene was half asleep when the empress's carriage drew to a halt outside the barracks. Liane had insisted on calling a carriage to deliver Imogen back to quarters—which was ridiculous when it took as long to drive through the winding palace roads to get from the palace to the administrative buildings as it did to walk through the grounds. But Liane, Imogene was learning, didn't take no for an answer often. Perhaps that came with being an empress. She'd insisted Imogene spend the night at the palace. Not that a luxurious bed in a palace guest suite had made it any easier to sleep. Imogene had been too overwhelmed by everything that had happened to rest.
Ikarus appeared at one point to sit with her, as though keeping watch. He'd gone again when she'd climbed into the high bed an hour or so before dawn. But she hadn't slept long. Which was why she was yawning now. Colonel Ferritine had asked her to come see him at eleven after Liane had finished telling him that Imogene's punishments were to be over and done with immediately, and she was to be given all due consideration for her next assignment, and the empress would be writing a commendation for her bravery.
It was nearly quarter to eleven now.
But as she stepped out of the carriage, she spotted Jean-Paul looming on the steps once more, looking like a storm cloud in his uniform.
Her heart lurched, and had it not been for the firm grip of the driver who had insisted on offering her a hand to help her down, she may have stumbled at the sight of him.
She stood for a moment, gathering her wits. Not fast enough, because it gave him time to walk to her.
"Lieutenant, good morning," he said. He looked almost as rumpled as she felt. He hadn't shaved, and his uniform was wrinkled. Hers was pressed and clean via the magic of palace servants who had managed the feat in the few hours she had slept, but she still felt disheveled and unsettled.
"Good morning." The response was automatic. As was the smile that followed it. She had missed him. She’d wanted to talk to him last night but hadn't been able to figure out how short of sending Ikarus to find him. That might have been pushing her newly reinstated favor a little too far.
"I know you said to stay away, but I wanted to make sure you—" He broke off, as though he was uncertain what to say, eyes searching her face.
"That I what, Major?" she said gently.
"That you knew that I know I behaved like an idiot at the ball. I was angry, but not at you. I shouldn't have spoken to you that way. I apologize. I wanted to give you the space you asked for. And I will leave again and give you that space if it's still what you want, but Liane said yesterday that we all owed you an apology, and that is true. And I wanted mine to be the first. I didn't trust you as I should have. I told you I would protect you, and I didn't. There's no excuse. But I am sorry. And it won't happen again. I miss you. But I will go, if you still need time." He moved to step backward.
Her hand shot out and grabbed his arm, fingers curling into the wool of his uniform jacket. "Don't."
He looked down at her hand, hope breaking over his face. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?"
She wasn't sure about that. But she was sure she didn't want him to go. "I'm thinking about it," she said, smiling.
He smiled back, hope silvering his gray eyes. "What can I do to make you think faster?"
"Not much. I have to be in the colonel's office in about five minutes."
"I already spoke to the colonel. He said to tell you that he had something come up. He'll see you this afternoon."
"That was very confident of you," she said, lifting a brow at him.
He shrugged unapologetically. "I prefer hopeful. But even if you sent me away, I figured you might be as short on sleep as I am."
"Do you need a nap, Major?" she asked.
"Is that an invitation?" His voice did that low and rumbling thing that made her want to kiss him.
"I haven't said I've forgiven you yet."
"I could convince you if we took a nap." He wiggled his dark brows.
A sound came from the driver that she thought might be a stifled laugh. A reminder they were having this conversation in broad daylight. While standing outside the place where she still would be working after today, Jean-Paul or not.
She stepped back from him. "Perhaps we can compromise with a carriage drive? Find somewhere to talk."
"Excellent plan," Jean Paul said. He reached past her and opened the carriage door again. "The empress won't mind if we take her carriage for a spin. She has several of them. And I would like to talk to you. About whatever you'd like to talk about." He held out a hand so she could step back into the carriage. "My father thinks I should definitely marry you," he said just as she put a foot on the step.
She almost banged her head on the top of the door as she jerked in surprise but managed to recover and climb inside. Jean-Paul followed. Really, the man was far too nimble for his size. He was annoyingly good at too many things. The thought made her annoyingly happy.
"I thought we were going to take our time about this?"
"We may be," Jean-Paul said. "But I warn you, my father is impatient. And very good at getting his own way."
"Like father, like son, it seems," she said.
Life as a du Laq, she was beginning to think, would definitely never be dull. She might fit right in, in fact. She rather liked the thought of learning how to be very good at getting her own way when she needed to. Perhaps she should start practicing. Because she knew what she wanted. And that was the man sitting opposite her, grinning like temptation and trying to be on his best behavior. Every overly large, overly confident, aristo, brilliant, handsome inch of him.
"You never actually asked me the question," she pointed out.
"I was giving you time and space," he said. "Do you still need them?"
"A little," she said. "I quite like this apologizing part. I may need a little more."
"I can do that," he agreed cheerfully. "As often as you need me to. And then?"
She smiled, charmed by him all over again. And hopelessly in love. "And then, if you ask very nicely, I think it likely I will say yes."