Whatever had happened, it was an improvement.

Even the weather matched her mood. The day was warm enough to leave the house without a wrap, and all the doors and windows of the town house were thrown wide open.

She walked into the kitchen where Anatol and Gregorio were talking with the cook. Gregorio handed her a cup of tea while she went to the open doors that led out to the porch and leaned against the doorjamb, breathing in the clean, warm air and closing her eyes for a moment.

She could feel safe now, as could Anatol and the rest of the magicked. Most of the Revolutionaries had been arrested, including the head of the beast, Markoff. Gregorio was going particularly hard on him because of his immense betrayal.

Of course there were still other magick haters out there, other people who would attempt to target those who were different from them. That would never end, not completely. Still, Anatol and Gregorio were doing a good job of drawing the magicked out, binding them together, and making them stronger. Evangeline was optimistic that even though hatred and bigotry would never be completely eradicated, at least some of the ignorance about the magicked could be vanquished through their efforts.

They were good men doing the best of work. She would never leave them again and she felt confident they would never leave her, either. Their love was way too strong. Instead she had thrown her heart wide open to them. Given all she was to them. Invested herself completely in them.

She was theirs, wholly and without reservation.

And they were hers.

Anatol, with his quiet strength and his uncanny ability to look into the hearts of those around him. Gregorio, with his intelligence, fierce protectiveness, and his gentleness that was so at odds with his gruff appearance. She couldn’t ask for two better men.

Anatol came to lean against the opposite doorjamb, looking up into the blue sky. “I think we should get a cat.”

Gregorio gave a bark of laughter as he walked past them both to settle in one of the chairs on the porch. “A cat? Where did that suggestion come from?”

Instead of answering, Anatol looked over at her. “What do you think, Evangeline? Should we get a cat?”

She smiled and looked down into her half full teacup. “I’ve always wanted a cat.”

“I thought so,” answered Anatol with a secret little smile playing around his mouth.

She sighed, giving in. Sometimes Anatol’s ability to read her was eerie. “And I’ve been thinking about other things I might want in this lifetime.” She paused. “With you both.”

Gregorio turned in his seat to look at her.

Evangeline stepped onto the porch and sat down in the chair opposite him. She held his gaze, since Anatol already knew what she was going to say and this would come as a shock to Gregorio. Her stomach tightened a little at the prospect that Gregorio might not want what she and Anatol wanted.

“It would be a very large thing, larger than a cat. Actually, it would be a small thing . . . at least at first.” She smiled and then grimaced. This wasn’t going the way she’d planned it in her head. Nervousness was making her babble.

Gregorio frowned at her. “What are you talking about, Evangeline?”

She glanced at Anatol. No help there. He just grinned at her. She directed her gaze back to Gregorio. “What I’m saying is . . . what I mean to say is . . . that ...” She paused, and then blurted it out, “I want children. With you and with Anatol.”

Gregorio sat up in his chair, as though alarmed.

She held up a hand. “Not right away. I mean, we can take this slowly. Whenever you and Anatol are ready. I’m willing to—ah!”

Gregorio had lunged at her, enveloping her in his arms. He knelt on the floor of the porch in front of her and cupped her cheeks in his hands. “I have always wanted children, Evangeline. Always.”

Anatol came to sit next to her. “You already know that I want this, too.”

She smiled, covering Gregorio’s hands with her own and closing her eyes, bathing in the moment. “It will be complicated. We’ll have a lot to talk about, since there will be two men involved and we won’t know who the biological father is.”

“Maybe not at first.” Anatol grinned. “But once the child hits adolescence and starts planning a revolution, we might have a clue that Gregorio is the father.”

“And if the boy or girl is peering into our souls at age seven and ferreting out truths we don’t want to face, he or she is probably Anatol’s biological offspring,” offered Gregorio.

“Either way,” Anatol broke in, “we’ll both be fathers to the child. The biological parentage will matter little.”

Evangeline’s smile grew larger. It felt as though sunlight had entered her chest—light, bright, beautiful. “And either way, chances are good that the child will be magicked.”

Gregorio stroked her cheek. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Anatol wound his arm around her waist. “So, when should we start trying to make a child?”

Gregorio grinned. “There’s no time like the present.”

“See?” Anatol answered. “We’re already in accord.”

Evangeline allowed herself to be pulled into the embrace—both of them—of the two men she loved most in the world.