by Casey, Ember
“I know.” He lowers his voice, reaching over to touch the top of my thigh. “My early wedding gift to you.”
“Oh, it’s a gift is it?” I stare at him for a moment, still smiling. “How did you manage to do this?”
He grins. “Rider bribed the guy who was supposed to sit next to you. Can’t remember his name—”
I point at the placard. “It appears to be Baron Maddox—”
“Whatever. The guy’s a huge Twisted Throne fan. Rider offered him front row tickets if he’d switch him seats.” He shrugs. “Then Rider switched with me.”
“And this is why I told my mother not to invite your band.” Even as I scold him, I can’t believe how sweet the gesture is.
“It’s the night before our wedding. I wasn’t about to let some other guy sit next to you. It’s practically our rehearsal dinner, isn’t it?”
“I suppose it is.” I place my hand over his, holding it for a moment before I turn to him. “Wait. You offered him concert tickets? Does this mean the band is back together? You’re going to perform?”
“I didn’t know we ever split. Not really.” He shrugs. “If I could get Charlie to even look in my direction, we’d be fine. I wish he’d get that through his thick skull. It isn’t like the stupid tape killed us.”
“No, I suppose not.” The sex tape made things infinitely more complicated with my family, and it’s probably the only reason my father insisted on so many rules to recognize my marriage, though. Not that I could ever say that aloud to my husband. And not that I really want to—it’s much more important to me that his band get back together and start performing again.
It isn’t long before dinner is served. As soon as the wine begins to flow, so does the conversation at the table. Pax talks to the woman sitting next to him—the wife of another of our cousins—and I speak politely with the gentleman sitting next to me, a politician from Canada.
As soon as the music begins to play, couples begin filing onto the dance floor.
Pax taps my shoulder. “Shall we?”
I tilt my head. “It’s impolite for a married couple to have a first dance at the State Dinner. If they do at all, it should be—”
“Our wedding isn’t until tomorrow, remember?” He grins. “So technically—”
“You are incorrigible. Technically.”
“Is that a yes?”
I shake my head, even as I agree. “Yes.”
He pulls my hand into his, guiding me out of my seat to lead me to the dance floor. He takes me in his arms, twirling me around the dance floor.
“You’ve gotten a lot better at this.”
“Hm. I don’t think I was half bad to start with.”
“You weren’t. But you’re even better now. You must have been practicing.”
“Nah. I’m just lighter on my feet now.” He winks at me. “Losing a kidney is like, what? Two pounds of instant weight loss or something?”
I look into his eyes for a long moment, my smile falling. “You’re a wonderful man, Pax Donovan. Not many people would have done that.”
He looks down at me. “I don’t know if that’s true.”
“I do.” I nod. “I know it’s true. And I hope…” I shake my head.
“You hope what?” He tilts his head, catching my gaze.
“I hope…I hope they all can see now. My father, my brothers… I hope they can see now why I love you.”
His lips tick into a smile. “I don’t care if they understand, Sophia. All that matters is that you do. And you have no idea how much I love you.”
“I think I do. And I can’t wait to marry you again tomorrow.”
He doesn’t let me out of his arms the rest of the night, and I don’t think again about how inappropriate or against the rules it is that we only dance with each other. I’m the luckiest woman alive, I think as he spins me around the dance floor. And I can’t believe I get to spend the rest of my life with the man of my dreams.
I don’t notice how long we’ve been dancing until the rooms falls silent.
We stop dancing and turn to look toward the dais at the front of the room where my father sits in his wheelchair. He looks up at my mother before he stands, walking to the center of the small stage.
“Welcome to Montovia, friends and family.” He looks over the crowd for a moment before his gaze falls on me. “Thank you for attending this evening.”
In the past, my father’s statement usually ends the evening, but he doesn’t make his usual gesture to the crowd to dismiss them.
“I know this is highly unusual, but I want to take a moment to recognize the newest member of our family.” He nods in our direction. “As you all know, we have a grand festival planned for tomorrow, a celebration of the marriage of my youngest child.” He pauses for a moment, still staring over at us.
As usual, I can’t read his expression. But something tells me this isn’t going to be a scolding or anything about how I’ve embarrassed our family. The way he’s looking at me… If I didn’t know better, I’d swear my father was almost happy for me.
“And as our princess will be taking the sacred vows of marriage in front of the people of Montovia, I’ve come to another decision.” He pauses for an unbearably long moment, his expression twisting ever so slightly. “I’ve decided that once the marriage is official in the eyes of Montovia, Patrick…” He glances at my husband. “Pax Donovan will be officially named His Royal Highness, Prince Pax of Montovia.”
Pax
I can’t believe it—the old man has finally come around. I look down at Sophia, and she grins back up at me. We did it. We convinced her father that we should be together.
And it only took a kidney. Who knew?
This must be the end of the evening, because even though the music begins to play again, people slowly begin to filter out. The royal family stays, of course—I guess as hosts, they’re stuck here until the last drunken dignitary decides he’s had enough free wine. And besides, everyone and their brother wants to talk to me now—to shake my hand, congratulate me, and kiss the ass of the latest member of the family.
I could get used to this. For a while, anyway. As the minutes creep by into an hour, I realize being a prince has its downsides. I’m exhausted, I’m tired of people I don’t know trying to suck up to me, and I’d give anything for a few minutes alone with Sophia.
Eventually, my bandmates and Mick make it over to me. Mick, to my surprise, is actually tearing up at little.
“Congrats, Pax,” he says, giving me a fatherly pat on the shoulder. “Looks like you finally impressed these guys.”
“This is a pretty sweet place you’ve got here,” Rider says. “We’re totally having a party here soon, right?”
Jameson and Charlie add their agreement, and Sophia looks horrified for a moment before they all burst out laughing.
“Just a joke, Sophia,” Rider says. “I’d rather not be arrested on foreign soil. Your father may finally like Pax, but I doubt he’d be easy on the rest of us.” He looks back at me. “You better not write a bunch of songs about being a prince. I don’t think it goes with our image.”
“Hey, our name already fits,” I say, grinning.
Charlie shuffles a bit to my side, and I glance at him. He extends a hand to me. I clasp it.
“Congrats,” he says, soberly for Charlie. “I mean it, Pax. I’m glad you’re happy.”
“Thanks, man.” I hold onto his hand, making sure he meets my eyes. “I’m glad you could make it, Charlie.” To the whole group, I add, “Maybe after the wedding we can have a jam session in one of the smaller ballrooms. It’s been too long since I’ve played with you guys, and my fingers are starting to get itchy.”
They all laugh, including Charlie. I make sure he sees me smile and nod at him before releasing his hand, and I’m pretty sure I see relief in his eyes, like he’s finally letting go of some huge weight. I know it’ll be a while before he and I are back to the way we were, but we’re halfway there. He and I are like brother
s—no matter what happens between us, we’ll get it worked out.
We finish our goodbyes, and then finally, the last of the dignitaries are gone. Thank God. I lace my fingers through Sophia’s.
“Are we done?” I whisper to her. “I’m about to fall over.”
“Yes,” she says, and she sounds as relieved as I feel. “Let’s go say goodnight to my parents.”
The queen has a hug for each of us when we approach her, and there’s a big smile on her face as she looks at me.
“You did very well tonight, Pax,” she says. “Didn’t he, Edmund?”
The king’s eyes look me up and down again, and though his gaze is as hard as ever, I sense a little respect in it now. I’ll take it.
“You still have a long way to go,” he says. “But I am pleased by your progress so far.”
From the king, that’s a glowing endorsement.
I grin and bow. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Goodnight,” Sophia tells them, and together we head to the door.
I’d run back to the suite if I could, but I don’t have the energy. Sophia and I walk arm-in-arm, and for once, she seems at peace.
“Just think,” I say when we’ve nearly reached the room. “This time tomorrow we’ll be married.”
She grins up at me. “We’re already married.”
“Yeah, but this time it’ll be ‘Montovian official’.”
Her smile widens. “I’m so glad my father came around. I was beginning to wonder if—” She cuts herself off abruptly, frowning.
“Wonder what?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve just been so afraid this whole time that I’d end up having to choose between you and my family. I’ve been so worried about it these past few weeks, wondering when I’d finally be forced to make the choice—”
“Hey,” I tell her, stopping and twisting her toward me. “Everything worked out. There’s no need to worry about it anymore. There’s no need to worry about anything anymore. We’re getting married tomorrow. Again. And even if I have to spend sixteen hours in a stiff wedding suit, I know it’s going to be the happiest day of my life.”
She smiles up at me, the worry leaving her eyes.
I bend down and kiss her. “Now let’s get back to the room and do it one last time as sinful, unmarried folks.”
She laughs, but she doesn’t object when I grab her hand and practically run the rest of the way back to her suite.
We make love twice before finally collapsing from exhaustion, though I have no idea where we find the energy. I only know that one minute she’s in my arms, recovering from some fucking amazing sex, and the next there’s a loud pounding in my head.
I sit up. Sophia does, too, cursing under her breath as she tries to untangle herself from the sheets.
There’s sunlight streaming in through the windows. The pounding sounds again. It’s morning. And someone is at the door.
Muttering a few curses, I climb out of bed and grab a robe. I tie it around myself and stumble my way to the door to the suite.
There’s a whole army of people outside. Seriously—at least half a dozen of them, looking at me expectantly.
“What the hell’s going on?” I ask groggily.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” says the man at the front, bowing. “We’re here to prepare you and Her Highness for the wedding.”
Now that I’m a little more awake, I notice they’re all carrying things—clothes, hair-styling tools, other odds and ends—and everything clicks into place.
That’s right. We’re getting married today.
I grin, stepping aside for them. “Come in.”
About half of the group—all women—come inside. The men stay in the hallway.
“If it pleases you, Your Highness,” says the man who spoke before, “we’ve set up a room in another wing for you. So you and Her Highness won’t see each other before the wedding, per tradition.”
I guess that makes sense. Even if Sophia and I are already married, we might as well follow tradition. I glance back toward the bedroom and notice the maids have already barricaded themselves in the room. I attempt to go back—I should at least say goodbye to Sophia—but the man stops me.
“Please, Your Highness. Time is tight as it is. Come with us.”
I’m about to go anyway, but one of the maids gives me a stern look and shuts the bedroom door. Apparently these people mean business.
I let the team of men lead me to another suite. I’m instructed to shower, and I do, quickly. When I emerge from the bathroom, they’ve got a whole thing set up—one of them has a bunch of hair and trimming tools spread on the vanity, another is polishing my wedding shoes, another is carefully removing my stiff wedding suit from a garment bag made of silk. I stand there in my towel, unsure of what to do.
“This way,” says the only one who’s talked to me this entire time. He practically shoves me into the huge walk-in closet. “Your undergarments are there.”
I didn’t realize I’d have special undergarments for my big day. I stare at all the pieces, wondering what I did to deserve this, but even complicated underpants can’t shake me today. Sophia and I are getting married again. With a grin, I grab all the pieces and figure out how to get into them.
I’m still grinning when I emerge from the closet, but none of the men even glance my way. Two of them are still hard at their preparations, but the other four are gathered around the hanging garment bag, muttering amongst themselves.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
They glance my way, falling silent.
I stride over to them, pushing through so I can see what they’re all muttering about. Did something happen to my wedding suit? Not that I’d really complain…
My wedding suit looks fine, though. Or at least as fine as that stiff, ugly thing ever did. But there’s something pinned to the front—a letter.
I lean closer, peering at the words:
She doesn’t deserve you. No one deserves you but me.
Sophia
Considering I’m already married, I can’t believe how nervous I am to walk down the aisle.
Not that it’s an aisle, exactly. We’re outside on the lawn behind the palace, which itself is large enough to hold most of the population of the capital city.
The crowd for this ceremony is so huge, things had to be changed around a bit from a normal wedding. My father and I will enter from the side now, and a small walkway has been roped off so we can walk between the small area at the front where our families are seated and the large gathering of people standing behind.
It’s almost like one of Pax’s rock concerts, I can’t help but think as I peer out of the small tent that’s been set up. Judging by all the crying women pushing at the rope barrier, it’s likely all the same people.
My father wheels himself beside me. “You look lovely, Daughter.”
I turn to him, forcing a smile. “Thank you, Father. And thank you for your announcement last night.”
“It seemed appropriate, given the sacrifices your husband has made.” He looks up at me with his steely, unreadable gaze. “I may have misjudged him.”
I can feel my expression soften, and I wish I had the time to tell my father exactly how he did misjudge Pax. How I did, too—at least at first.
“But I’ll not be changing my mind on the last of my requirements to recognize your marriage, Sophia. You’re young. And you can wait to bring forth a child into the world.”
“Ten years seems a bit excessive, Father—”
“This is neither the time nor place for discussion.” He arches a brow. “Nor will there be a discussion. I’ve made my decision. And you’ll abide by it.”
I lift my chin, turning from him. It isn’t so much that I’m in a hurry to have a child—it’s the mere notion that my father is trying to control me that bothers me most.
“The gathering is quite a lot more than expected. I understand our customs agents have been overwhelmed by all the visitors into the co
untry the past few days.”
I’m sure that’s my father’s attempt at smoothing things over. That is how we deal with things in my family—at least where my father is concerned. If the topic becomes uncomfortable, he just changes the subject.
“But they are more than equipped to handle any security issues. We haven’t had a problem at any public gatherings in this country in almost a century.”
“Of course, Father—”
I’m interrupted by the sound of a scuffle at the opposite side of the tent.
“You can’t… Your Highness—”
“I’m not Your Highness yet.” Pax pushes his way around several of the attendants. “Sophia. King…Your Majesty.” He maneuvers his way over, even though every one of the ladies who have been helping me all morning try to stop him.
My father arches a brow at him. “It’s bad luck to see your bride before the wedding.”
“We’re already married,” he mutters, his eyes never leaving mine. “She’s here.”
“Who’s here?” I feel my brows draw together before my stomach twists itself into a knot. “That’s…impossible.”
My father looks up between the two of us. “I presume you’re speaking of your attacker?” He pauses for a moment. “I assure you, Patrick…Pax. Guns are forbidden among the general public in this country. And our security—”
“Your security…” He shakes his head, his mouth dropping open. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty. I realize it’s impolite, but there’s no time. We have to cancel this thing—”
“Nonsense.” My father gives him a stern look. “Half the Royal Guard are here, whether you can see them or not. And I can assure you, there will be no problems of any kind at this gathering. Anything untoward will be stopped before it begins.”
“You don’t know Abby,” Pax mutters under his breath.
“And you don’t know my Royal Guard.” My father gives him a steely glare. “Now, I suggest you take your place. The ceremony is about to begin, and I would prefer that I walk my daughter down the aisle of her wedding to actually meet her groom.”
