Jonathan is a good king, one of the best Tortall has known, and one day he is going to go down in the history books as the man with a certain je ne sais quoi, something more than just another Conte king with pretty blue eyes and soft black hair and a smile that has charmed women out of their clothes. After his father and grandfather, fighter and peacemaker, he wants to tread the line between both. Keep the peace in his lands, win wars in others.

"Pretty-boy king," George once called him when he was in a fit of how dare you send my wife on dangerous things when we have a four year old son and twin babies, George who was king in a much more cutthroat environment as Jon well knows, having heard tales about the King of the Rogues and his ears and his knives.

Jon does depend on the charm, on his eyes and smile and sometimes on his wife as well, with her ability to bewitch men with a twist of her lips and throw of her shoulders.

Keladry ignores his eyes and smile and his fitness for a man his age, not that his age should mean too much yet.

He calls her for a meeting, ostensibly something about tactics and strategies, and locks the door to his office.

Keladry raises an eyebrow and looks generally unamused. "Is that necessary, sir?"

"For what I'm going to do to you, yes." He smirks, and Kel sees a flash of resemblance to portraits she has seen of his dead cousin the Duke.

"Clearly," Kel sits on his desk, sweeping the papers away like they are so much nonsense.

"Those were important, didn't you know" Jon says. She looks back at him in that way he finds attractive, that way that says I don't like you but you and the decisions that intrigue me and that's why I'm here. Most women only wanted him for his body and his position, she is interested in his mind. Maybe.

"Clearly," Kel says. "I have to be somewhere in an hour,"

"Then we'll make the most of our time." He grasps her, his hands around her hips.


Jonathan doesn't want to ask her why she keeps coming back. He doesn't think that he'll much like the answer.