“I think a toast is in order.” I find my own glass and lift it. “To you, Alessandra. May your wit never be used against me.” I laugh before tipping the contents of my glass into my mouth. “And to you, Your Majesty. To your fine leadership. This growing empire wouldn’t be what it is without you.” His eyes are on mine as he tips back his glass a second time. And something about that gaze, the way it drinks me in—it curls my toes within my slippers.
