Television cameras were set up on tripods inside the church, and Emma knew she had to keep a half-smiling poker face on at all times. She was managing fine until she heard a whisper in her ear and recognized Liesel’s voice. “People are shocked that Darias has married a commoner. It’s the first time in Altaleone history.”
Emma didn’t want to reply but also couldn’t risk being rude in public. “I’m lucky he’s open-minded.”
“Far too open-minded, in my opinion. And I heard he is painting again. A king should not waste his time on idle pursuits.”
“Surely even a king deserves some time to enjoy a hobby.” She knew Darias would hate her calling his art a hobby—especially when he earned a fortune for each piece—but she was humoring Liesel.
“A king should pursue traditional activities like hunting and horse riding. It’s your duty as his…wife…to shape his interests.” The way she said wife made it sound like an insult. “But then you’re not a real wife, are you?”
Emma’s blood ran cold. Liesel’s whisper was barely audible even with her coral-painted lips practically glued to Emma’s ear. She didn’t want to draw attention from either the gathered audience of domestic and foreign dignitaries, or the other family members, so she turned and whispered—rather louder—“I’m afraid I can’t hear you over the organ music.” She pushed a bright smile to her lips.
Liesel lifted a brow. Her sister, Carolina, sitting next to her, glanced from Emma to Liesel. “What’s going on?”
“I was just telling Emma…” Liesel stared so hard at Emma that her heart began to pound. “About the importance of royal tradition. Being of common background, she has a lot to learn.”
“She’s right, of course,” managed Emma with another smile, this time directed at Carolina. She really did like Darias’s mom, who’d been nothing but warm and welcoming to her. “I’m doing my best to learn fast so I don’t embarrass you all.”
“You could never do that,” said Carolina with a pat on her shoulder. “We’re all thrilled to have you here.”
“Are we?” Liesel murmured, half under her breath. Her words were hidden under Emma’s “thank you” to her much nicer sister, but Emma still heard them. Probably some of Darias’s siblings did, too, though no one said anything. They weren’t supposed to be talking at all. The booming organ cast an atmosphere of ceremonial formality over the Baroque church nave, with its big frescoes of prophets and angels suspended over their heads.
Emma turned back around, anxious to kill this uncomfortable conversation. If they could get through today without Darias being assassinated, she’d consider it a success. She couldn’t let herself get distracted by a bitter relative with some unknown axe to grind.
At last the organ music boomed louder, and she turned—along with everyone in the church—to see Darias entering, dressed in a ceremonial uniform even more ornate than the one he’d worn at their wedding. Flanked by ministers in red coats and funny old-fashioned hats, he walked down the center aisle toward the altar, where more men in colorful clothing from former centuries gathered, bearing a golden cup, a long gold sword and a very ornate crown.
Darias wore a grim and regal expression as he strode over the inlaid marble floor. Bare headed and insanely gorgeous, he was undoubtedly the most handsome man ever to have been crowned king. The fact that she was married to him just made the situation all the more ridiculous, and Emma felt herself stifling hysterical laughter.
It’s just nerves! She dug her nails into her palms to calm herself. This was probably the most solemn and momentous moment of Darias’s whole life. He was taking on a heavy mantle of responsibility and doing it with a grace and dignity that anyone could admire.
Turned to watch him, she found herself scanning the gathered audience, eyes peeled for anyone with questionable intentions. Dressed in their ceremonial uniforms or frumpy hats, the guests were as poker faced as herself and gave away nothing.
They all watched in silence as he ascended the steps to the altar. As he turned to face the crowd, his eyes met hers and held her gaze for a burning second. She couldn’t breathe. The moment held so much meaning. For that instant she felt like his real wife, his partner who meant the world to him.
He sat on the throne and the ceremony commenced, with a lot of mumbling in the local dialect that sounded like Italian—but wasn’t quite—and he was tapped on the head with the sword and given a swallow from the big bejeweled cup and finally the crown was placed on his head.
The whole ceremony was so silent and loaded that Emma hoped there’d be a big cheer or something to release tension. No such luck. Darias rose and began to speak a long piece in his native language. She’d been trying to learn it, but there was no handy digital course, just books, and it was hard to study the pronunciation so she’d made little progress. She felt like a boob, sitting there among people who understood what he was saying.
She consoled herself with the thought that Liesel, who spoke German and had never lived in Altaleone, probably didn’t understand more than the odd word, either.
At long last Darias headed back down the steps and toward her. He took her hand—the thrill of awareness swept right through her—and led her back through the church at his side. The moment was so loaded and emotional it was all she could do not to cry. It helped to remind herself that none of this was real, not for her. It was a job and she had a role to play, so she’d darn well better play it right.
Darias helped her up into the ceremonial carriage, led by four horses, and climbed in next to her. The crowd roared as the carriage started moving along the cobbled street, bouncing a little on the stones.
“I missed you.” He spoke low, while waving to the crowds.
“I missed you, too.” She kept her public smile on her face.
“I can’t wait to get you alone.” His words crept into her ears, while he continued looking and waving at the crowds.
“Good luck with that,” she said, teasing. “I have a feeling it’s going to be—”
She didn’t finish her sentence because at that moment a man exploded from the crowd, ran in front of the horses and hurled a lit firecracker.
Emma screamed as the horses leaped in all directions—or attempted to, but found themselves bound by harness and the carriage behind them. They skittered sideways, and the carriage tilted, throwing her into Darias’s arms before the carriage overturned and they were flung hard onto the cobbled sidewalk and the rapidly scattering crowd.
Darias’s body broke her fall, and he wrapped his arms around her, protecting her. The horses screamed, dragging the overturned carriage, as the footmen, who had jumped to the ground, struggled to get them under control.
“Are you okay?” She’d come down on him very hard.
“Yes.” He helped her to her feet. “And you?” He scanned her quickly.
“I’m fine. No thanks to that crazy— Who did it?” She hadn’t taken a good look at the man with the firework, and she couldn’t see past the chaos of the carriage.
Darias squeezed her hand. “We’ll find him. He can’t have gone far in this crowd.”
Staff had rushed in to fuss over Darias and her, and he brushed them away. “Is the assailant in custody?”
“Yes, your majesty.” Emma heard the word majesty and sighed with relief that at least the coronation hadn’t been interrupted. “He appears to be a student.”
“Bring him to me.”
“Uh…” The guard hesitated. “Our men have him in custody. He’ll be taken to the police station.”
“I want to lay eyes on him.” Darias took her hand and led her along with him.
The horses were back under control but still dancing nervously in place as their attendants unharnessed them from the wrecked carriage. Darias patted the neck of the nearest one as they passed.
The guards attempted to dissuade Darias from confronting the man, but Darias continued to insist—in his language—until they brought him to a police van and rolled down the window. From where sh
e stood, Emma could see a dark-haired young man wedged between two uniformed policemen.
“Why did you throw the firework?” Darias spoke in English.
The captive replied in the local language, and once again Emma cursed her lack of understanding. Darias snorted with disgust. “You’re lucky you didn’t hurt one of my horses. Deliberately injuring a horse is still a capital crime in Altaleone.” He stared at the man for a moment. “Don’t think I’m done with you.” Then he spoke rapidly to the guards and moved back toward the main street.
“We can continue on foot,” he suggested. “As long as your shoes aren’t too uncomfortable.”
“They’re fine.” She’d discovered recently that very expensive footwear was surprisingly comfortable, even when dangerously high. “Would you really kill someone for injuring a horse?” The idea was both horrifying and fascinating.
“It hasn’t happened since 1899, but it’s one of those laws that’s good to keep on the books just to keep people on their toes.” Humor flashed in his eyes, and she was glad to see it there instead of the blind rage some men might feel when their coronation procession was ruined by a kid with a firework.
“What did he say?”
“I can’t really say it out loud.” He waved and smiled at the crowd. “It wouldn’t be appropriate under the circumstances. I’ll tell you later.”
She could barely hear him anyway over the roar of the enthusiastic and supportive crowd. She felt proud, marching beside someone so unflappable and clearly liked and admired by the gathered throng.
Back at the palace there was feasting and partying very similar to the wedding. Her main duties consisted of smiling and making small talk with anyone who spoke English.
Beatriz steered her around, and she was beginning to feel that Beatriz was keeping her away from anyone who might ask too many probing questions. Did Beatriz know more than she let on? Or was she just anxious to prevent embarrassment to the royal family from the commoner in their midst? It was hard to tell.
Darias disappeared almost immediately—without a word—and she assumed he wanted to find out more about the attack during the procession. She was nervous that the kid with a firework might just be the tip of some larger and more dangerous iceberg. “Did the security guards search everyone who came to the palace?” she whispered to Beatriz, during a quiet moment.
“Of course not.” Beatriz looked amused. “We can hardly have heads of state and ministers patted down and frisked. Gibran does have a lot of security staff—men and women—dressed as guests and wandering among the crowd.”
Emma glanced around. They were probably the young, good-looking ones. Many guests at the coronation were elderly and weighed down with diamonds or medals. “I suppose that’s a relief. I can’t wait until it’s over.”
Beatriz sipped her champagne. The level of liquid never went down, though. Emma realized she was just pretending to drink it but wanted to stay stone-cold sober.
“It’s not over until the mock battle.”
“Battle?” Her mind sprang back to the note she’d read. Battle brings the sound of thunder. “What battle?”
“It’s a reenactment of some silly conflict in 1292, when some local hotshot decided to invade Altaleone with his private army during a young prince’s coronation as king, and ended up with his head on a platter.” Beatriz smiled. “It’s tradition to reenact it. They’re actually still using the same weapons from the thirteenth century.”
Did Darias tell anyone about the note other than Gibran? It had turned his suspicions to someone.… What was the name? “Is there a guest here called Lorenzo Aldobrando?”
Beatriz looked startled. “Uh, I’m not sure. I suspect he was invited, but I hope he knows better than to come.”
“Why?”
“His family is very ancient like ours, and we’ve had our ups and downs over the centuries, but in recent years there’s been some bad blood over business and an ancient dispute over some land.”
“So you haven’t seen him?”
“I’m not even sure I’d recognize him. I haven’t seen him in years.”
Emma decided to text Darias her concerns about the “battle,” though she noticed disapproving glances when she pulled out her phone. The crowd in this room probably still sent messages by uniformed men on horses.
He texted her back right away. Aldobrando is here. He’s being watched closely.
The message was not reassuring. She wanted to ask about the young man in custody but knew it wasn’t appropriate to keep tapping away at her phone while the party swirled around her. Will you be back here soon?
She hated to sound needy, but still…
As soon as I can be.
She sucked in a breath, hoping no one could tell how nervous she felt. What if she never saw Darias again? With all these threats and potential enemies in their midst, anything could happen. At least she’d done all she could to warn him.
“You look pale,” said Beatriz, frowning. “You should eat something.”
“I can’t.” She glanced around. “My stomach is in turmoil. The incident with the firework.” She tried to whisper without seeming too obvious. “I keep thinking everyone is a potential assassin.”
“Welcome to being royal.” Beatriz looked grim. “And having a target on your forehead.”
“Do you really always live in fear?”
“Not of being murdered, but the press are always out hunting for a juicy story so we have to be on our guard.”
“I bet you’ve never done anything that would shock the press.” Beatriz seemed the most straitlaced person imaginable.
“Probably true! I am deplorably dull.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Let’s go see how Mama is getting on.”
Emma could see at first glance that Carolina had not been quite so careful with the champagne as Beatriz. Her cheeks had high spots of color, and her eyes were filled with emotion. “I remember your father’s coronation like it was yesterday,” she gushed to Beatriz as they approached. “He was so handsome in his uniform. I loved him so terribly much.”
“Did you even really know him by then?” Beatriz grabbed a plate of tiny snacks from a waiter and shoved them under her mom’s nose. “I thought it was pretty much an arranged marriage.”
“It was love at first sight.” Darias’s mom waved her hand in front of her face. “Oh, I know things grew more prosaic as time went on and we were both so busy, but on that day my love for him was like madness. I’ll never forget it.”
Beatrice patted her arm. “No one wants you to forget it, Mama. Have something to eat.”
Carolina clearly didn’t want to eat any more than Emma, because she waved the plate away and wrapped her arms around Emma, who tried to hug her back despite their crisp, formal dresses. “I’m so glad Darias found you right when he needed you.”
“Me, too,” she said quite honestly. Then felt a stab of guilt when she remembered how crushed his mom would be when the year was up and she packed her bags and left. Still, now wasn’t the time to worry about that. Darias’s mom needed her to be cheerful and useful. “Tell me about the fake battle.”
“Oh, it’s so ridiculous. I swear it’s just an excuse for all these men to get dressed up in armor and wave swords around.”
“Better that they do it in a ceremony than in a real battle,” said Beatriz with a lifted brow.
“They wear suits of armor? Like, the kind that covers your face?” Emma’s gut flashed an ugly warning.
“Yes, of course. The suits are all kept in the royal armory. They’ve never been worn in a real battle, of course, but—”
Darias’s mom continued, but Emma’s mind was working furiously. What if someone concealed their identity inside one of the suits?
She didn’t want to voice her fears in front of Carolina. She knew Darias didn’t want his mom worried or upset for any reason. But if the murderer was here…and intended to participate in the battle—
She needed to see Darias, and now.
<
br /> CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Emma excused herself as if going to the ladies’ room and headed upstairs to the bedroom she shared with Darias. There at least she could call him in peace. She dialed as she headed up the stairs, and he picked up on the first ring. She glanced around—the hall downstairs was filled with glittering guests and there were three different staffers on the staircase alone.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“I’ve been at the armory, where the boy is being held. I’m heading back in a security car right now. He’s not who he says he is at all. He claimed to be a radical student, but I recognize him. He’s the son of a prominent Piedmont family. I know his older brother.”
Emma hurried along the hallway, out of sight of the guests downstairs. “Why did he do it?”
“To get my attention. That’s all he would say. Now his expensive lawyers are here and he’s clammed right up.”
She was so frustrated to be talking into a phone, especially after the drama of earlier. She wanted to see him. “Darias, I’m still nervous about this mock battle and Aldobrando. If everyone’s face is covered, how do you know who is who?”
“Good point. I’ll make sure to eyeball them all. I’ve asked Gibran to sic Beatriz on Aldobrando. You know what she’s like. He won’t have a spare moment to get up to no good.”
Emma laughed. “She’s really taken care of me.”
“I know she means well.”
“I miss you,” she said softly. She felt odd confessing it, but of course it played right into the loving-husband-and-wife charade, if anyone was listening in.
“I’ll be back soon. Meet me at the main door.”
She hung up, with a tiny ache that he didn’t say anything about missing her. Then she chastised herself. He was busy being made king today, not to mention trying not to be assassinated. She needed to get over herself, and fast!
The King's Bought Bride (Royal House of Leone Book 1) Page 13
