Page 159 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

"Says the man who adores his wife." True, Aristides hadn't had much time to choose when he'd been pressed to marry so young, but in Liane, he had made a match with someone he could love.

"I'm perfectly prepared to let you marry someone you adore, too," Aristides said. He tapped his glass with one long brown finger, dark eyes serious. "But you need to find her. Your father, I suspect, will start to force the issue if you do not take some action soon. So consider this my hint to start to take action."

Jean-Paul thought of Imogene and the action he would have been taking with her right now if he hadn't been interrupted. He frowned, wondering if she would indeed be waiting for him when he returned. His frown turned to a grin that he had to work to regulate to something less enthusiastic.

Aristides cleared his throat. "Am I to take it from your expression that there may be a candidate?"

"For marriage? No." The lieutenant was beautiful, but they had only just met. He wasn't going to confuse attraction for affection so soon.

"Ah. So we interrupted something more...temporary? In which case, my friend, I shall consider my duty to your father done and release you back to your entertainments, such as they are. Major Perrine will be in touch with you tomorrow about the Andalyssians.”

"I look forward to it," Jean-Paul lied again. Major Perrine, the second-in-command of Aristides’s personal guard, was a good man but somewhat of a stickler for detail. A good quality in someone in charge of the emperor's safety. Less good if he was to be in charge of Jean-Paul, too. Technically they shared a rank. But it was Jean-Paul being inserted into the guards’ usual sphere of operations, and Perrine's rank was somewhat less newly minted than Jean-Paul's own. Which meant he had to follow Perrine's orders. "Are you returning to the ball?"

"Not just yet," Aristides said. "I have other conversations to hold." He looked down at his glass as though resenting the fact. He wore the weight of his crown lightly most of the time, but there were moments when Jean-Paul glimpsed the price he paid for his power.

"Then I will bid you good night, Your Imperial Majesty."

"And I will bid you good hunting, my friend."

---