by Zara Zenia
“Uh . . . no,” Margot said. “Of course, though. However you like.”
“Please follow us.” The three of them escorted her out and to a small ship. The entire lot was filled with small private ships, and Margot climbed into the one they pointed out. “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes,” Margot said. “This is safe, right?”
“Completely,” the old man said, and then they took off.
Margot could tell right away that she didn't like flying like this. She could feel every bump in the air-road and she hung on for dear life. Her long journey, despite the fact that she had slept for a while, was starting to catch up to her.
“So, how long have you worked for Draklan?” she asked as they bumped along.
“For his whole life,” the woman said.
Margot laughed. “His whole life, eh?” she said. “Was he running a business since he was an infant?”
“You could say that,” the woman said in the front seat as she glanced to the driver.
Margot could tell that they weren't too interested in talking, and she settled back, trying to relax. She recognized some of the roads that they flew over and the direction that they were going.
“Will we see the palace?” she asked.
The older man beside her gave her a strange look. “Yes?” he said. “Where did you think we were going?”
“What?” Margot said, confused by that sentence. “I have no idea . . . wait . . . where are we going?”
“To the palace,” he said, looking at her like she was stupid. “Unless you need something first?”
“Why are we going to the palace?” she asked, feeling like she was speaking in slow motion.
“To meet Draklan, your fiancé?” the older man answered.
“Does he also work at the palace?” Margot broke out in a cold sweat.
“He lives at the palace,” the older man said. “Did you not know that?”
On cue, the palace came into view. Margot took a deep breath, putting her hand to her mouth. What had she gotten herself into?
Chapter 4
Draklan
Draklan didn't particularly care when he saw the air-car pull up to the front of the palace. He had been listening to last-minute arrangements for the wedding for the past three hours, and he was bored to tears. The idea of this marriage annoyed him, but he was willing to do whatever it took to make his mother happy. A traditional Tamaraxian royal wedding was in the works, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. If he wanted to inherit the islands, he had to do this.
Besides, how bad could this bride be? He figured that if he didn't like her, he could get through the first night and everything would be fine. He knew many royal couples who lived apart, and he imagined he could be one of them. At least his mother would leave him alone for a few months before she started demanding that they have children.
“Prince Draklan,” said the footman, “they have arrived.”
“Thank you,” Draklan said dismissively. “They can wait.”
The footman nodded.
Once Draklan was alone again, he went back to the plans in front of him.
It didn't seem fair, in a lot of ways. Marriage was supposed to be from the heart, even if it was a marriage that would also benefit the kingdom. His mother had pushed him into this, and he knew neither party was going to be happy in the end. Why should he subject some poor innocent person to this when he didn't want to be there?
One thing that he tried to keep in mind was that whoever she was, she had wanted this too. She had signed herself up with a matchmaker, looking for basically a forced arrangement.
He wondered if she knew what she was getting into. Had the matchmaker told her everything, or was this poor girl walking into the situation blindfolded?
As he was contemplating these things, Pralmav walked in, surprised to find his brother still there.
“Your bride is waiting,” he said. “Did no one tell you?”
“They told me,” Draklan said harshly. “Forgive me if I'm not eager to rush off and start the rest of my life right this second.”
Pralmav sat down with a sigh and a gentle smile. “What is it really, brother?”
“Do you not have somewhere to be?” Draklan asked. “Saving the world or something in the lab? Or being with your beautiful wife?”
Pralmav raised an eyebrow. “You think my wife is beautiful?” he teased.
Draklan flushed. “No. I mean . . . she's perfect for you. And that makes me jealous.”
“Of . . . me?” Pralmav asked.
“Only because there's no chance that I'll have that,” Draklan said. “I've never met this matchmaker. I have no idea of anything about this woman. I think her name is Margot, that's all.”
“I mean, that's something,” Pralmav said. “And matchmakers are supposed to very good at their job.”
“Maybe,” Draklan replied. “I suppose I won't be disappointed until I find out.”
“Come on, then,” Pralmav said. “Let's go together. That way, I can be polite if your disappointment is too great of a burden to bear.”
It was the kindest offer Pralmav could make in his own way. Draklan sighed, getting up and following his brother into the main hall.
The main hall was crowded, and several people were bowing to him as he walked in. He was used to it, so it didn't startle him. Their constantly moving heads, however, meant that he didn't have a good view of the woman who was supposed to spend the rest of her life with him until he was practically upon her.
“Ah, Draklan,” his mother said, turning around and revealing Margot to him. “This is Margot Carter, your bride.”
The first thing that stunned him was how beautiful she was. She was petite, but with strength in her body. Her features were delicate and her long curly hair fell down her back. He had to clench his hands to fight the instinct to wrap his fingers in it. She was easily far more attractive than anyone else standing in the room.
“It's nice to, um . . . meet you.” Margot stuck out her hand.
Realizing that everyone was staring at them, he smiled kindly and shook it.
“Have I done something wrong?” she asked softly.
“Most people bow to a prince,” he said at last. “Is it different on Earth?”
“You're a . . .” Her eyes widened. “You're that Draklan?”
“You didn't know?” he asked.
“I didn’t,” she confirmed, looking slightly off kilter but cute. “Although suddenly, standing in the royal palace makes a lot more sense.”
“Mother.” Draklan turned to the queen. “Why would she not know? What kind of matchmaker is this?”
“The journey from Earth was clearly quite confusing,” his mother answered, glaring at Margot. “I know Miss Drax has done the best job possible. However, perhaps speaking isn't Miss Carter’s strength.”
“Excuse me?” Margot spun to his mother, appalled.
“Mother!” Draklan hissed through gritted teeth.
His mother, however, didn’t apologize. “We have much to prepare,” his mother said, changing the subject. “Perhaps we should show Miss Carter the wedding plans?”
“Everything is already planned?” Margot asked, clearly in shock.
Draklan felt bad for her and hung back as they followed his mother out of the room.
“Is it possible that you could have forgotten some details?” he asked her kindly.
“It's not possible that I'd forget all this,” Margot said. “I know you don't know me, but I would have remembered if I was told you were a prince and I was going to be a . . .” She looked overwhelmed.
“Princess,” Draklan replied. “Sometimes, when we are on the island, they will refer to you as queen of the Islands, but it's not to be confused with queen of the planet, which is a different title.”
“Yes, I read that,” she said. “Although I admit, I didn't pay much attention to it because I didn't think that it mattered.”
“Surprise?” Draklan replie
d, grinning at her.
She giggled and her face brightened.
He stepped ahead and then turned back when he realized he was going too fast for her. To his surprise, she was watching him intently, almost as if she was sizing him up. When he met her eyes, she looked away.
“Surprise,” she echoed softly.
They entered the giant room he had been in previously. In his absence, more plans had been laid out. There was so much paperwork that Draklan thought they might drown.
“We can make small changes, of course,” Joronna said to Margot, gesturing to the paperwork. “But most of it is in place. Please pick one or two things you'd like to change, at most.”
“For my own wedding?” Margot answered, clearly offended. “I was hoping to be able to plan that myself, with my new husband.”
“Please just listen to Mother,” Draklan begged her in a low voice. “It's easier. It doesn't matter, does it? It's one day and then the rest will be . . . our way.”
She glanced at him then, and the anger faded from her features. She seemed to contemplate him for a moment and then gave him a nod. “Where should I start?” she said at last.
His mother directed her toward the center, and Margot stepped forward, clearly trying to ignore all the eyes on her. In solidarity, Draklan stepped forward with her despite the fact that he’d read the plans a hundred times before.
Translations from English to Tamarax were good, but there were a few words that simply didn't translate. When she pointed them out, he translated the words without a second thought, which made her smile.
“Blue,” she said as she read about her bouquet. “That's my favorite color. Did the matchmaker tell you that?”
“I . . . I don't know,” he admitted. “These plans were mostly made . . . for me.”
“Are most things done for you?” she asked. There was no harshness in the question. She was genuinely curious what his situation was, and he answered honestly.
“Most of the little things are done for me,” he said. “And I make choices on the big things.”
“I guess that makes sense,” she said. “If you're a prince.”
He chuckled. “Yes, I really am a prince,” he said.
She seemed to be taking the situation surprisingly well, and he thought there was a glimmer of hope in their marriage. However, the sense of peace in the room was suddenly broken when the dressmaker approached her, without consent, and wrapped a measuring tape around her waist and then began to move to her bust.
“Hey!” Margot cried, clearly startled at being touched.
The dressmaker spoke in the local tongue and Draklan translated for Margot quickly.
“She says your measurements are exactly as you provided and that your dress is ready now.”
“My . . . dress?” Margot paled. “I don't even get to pick my dress? And I need it right now?”
Draklan's face reacted in confusion again. “Well, when else would you need it?” he asked.
“For . . . but . . .” Margot took a deep breath and put her hands over her face. Her shoulders rose and fell for a few moments before she dropped her hands. “All right. Let's try it on.”
The dressmaker dragged Margot out of the room, and Draklan turned to his mother, annoyed.
“This is not fair,” he said. “She knows nothing of what she’s walked into. Your matchmaker is terrible.”
“Draklan,” his mother snapped. “You will not disobey me again. And you will not speak to me in such a way. Now that plans are confirmed, shall we head back to the Grand Hall for the first part of the ceremony?”
“I suppose,” Draklan said, but there was anger in his eyes. “I shan't forget this day, Mother.”
“I should hope not,” Joronna replied. “It's your wedding day.”
Draklan had no idea how Tamarax ceremonies differed from Earth ceremonies. He barely knew Margot, but it did bother him to know that she wouldn't be honoring her people in a Tamarax ceremony. She seemed nice enough, and she was clearly a cut above the rest in her looks. He briefly wondered why she hadn't found love on her own planet as he waited for her.
When she finally emerged, she rushed toward him with wide eyes. He felt his breath leave him. In dark purple lace, with her hair done up in a tiara, she looked like a goddess rather than a being he could marry.
Tamarax weddings were fast. Margot didn't seem to know what was happening as the priest said words over both of them. Her eyes darted between Draklan, the priest she didn't understand, and his mother. He wanted to comfort her because he knew that she must be scared.
The vows were done before he knew it. Neither of them had to say a word because the unions on Tamarax were done by the church and the throne, especially for royals. They had no choice but to be committed to each other, so they stayed silent.
Once the priest nodded, he leaned in to kiss her. Margot leaned back, and he fumed that she didn't want to kiss him. But now, he had to finish it.
He scooped her up in his arm, to signify that this was his bride and he planned to take her and keep her safe.
Margot shrieked and responded by punching him squarely in the nose. He yelped at the pain as he saw stars.
“Put me down!” Margot cried, but he knew he couldn't.
He ducked as she swung again and navigated his way out of the hall as best as he could. Margot shrieked, but he hung on tightly, his muscles bulging as he walked. The crowded hall watched him go, some with pity and some with amusement.
“May you all bless the prince and princess,” Joronna said as the door closed.
“Bless the prince and princess!” came the cry as the newlywed couple walked down the hall.
Chapter 5
Margot
“Put me down, put me down, put me down!” Margot cried all the way down the hall. She managed to land another punch square in Draklan's face before he finally got her into his bedroom. There, he dumped her onto the ground and raised his hand to cover his bleeding nose.
“What is your problem?” he blurted out at last. “Did you think I was going to kill you or something?”
“You don't just pick someone up like that,” Margot cried. “I had no idea what you were going to do, but I'm not staying here.”
“Why?” he asked, seeming confused. “What did I do wrong?”
“What did you do wrong?” Margot looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “What did I just say?”
“Did I accidentally expose you indecently? Did I hurt you? Did I say something unfriendly?”
“You picked me up and carried me off!” Margot screamed at him. “How is that okay?”
“That's . . . part of the ceremony?” he said as he realized his nose was probably going to bleed for a while. “And you punched me in the face, several times, so please don't act like I'm the lunatic.”
“What ceremony?” she asked him.
“Our wedding?” he said. “Did no one tell you this, or did you think you were coming here for an entirely different purpose?”
“That was our wedding?” she asked.
His jaw dropped. “What did you think was happening?” he asked.
“I thought I was trying on a dress,” she said. “And I thought it was strange that I had to show it to a lot of people, but I had no idea what the customs are here. And then some old guy started talking, and I was polite, waiting until he was done. And then you picked me up.”
He almost laughed, despite himself.
“Yeah . . . that was our wedding,” he said.
She screamed in frustration. “No, this can't be happening,” she said, sitting on the bed and putting her head in her hands.
He actually felt sorry for her and took a step forward. “Are you serious?” he said.
When she looked up, she had tears in her eyes.
“You really didn't know?”
“No, I really didn't know,” she said. “I knew I was coming here to get married, but I just got off the ship, and I . . . didn't even know you were the prince. And no
w you're telling me that we’re married?”
“Well . . . yes,” he said and sat on a chair opposite her. “I thought you knew it would happen right away. I thought the matchmaker would have told you.”
“Clearly, you thought I would know lots of things,” she responded. “I just met you.”
“To be fair, I just met you too,” he answered.
That made her pause.
“Also, if it helps, I didn't register myself on some matchmaker service. This is all my mother's doing. I didn't actually want to get married.”
“Then, if you're a prince, why do you have to?” she asked. “Why can't you just do whatever you want?”
“Because my brothers are married,” he said simply. “And since my father died, my mother has been obsessed with making sure the line is secure. She told me I couldn't inherit my islands unless I got married.”
“Wow,” Margot said. “Is she always that . . . controlling?”
“No,” Draklan said. “Sometimes, she's worse.”
“Yikes.” Margot hugged her knees. “I'm sorry.”
“I'm sorry,” he answered, at last. “I thought you knew everything.”
“Well, what did they tell you about me?” she asked.
“Not much,” he admitted. “I knew your name and that you were from Earth, but I was assured you'd be a good princess who would match my personality.”
“First thoughts?” she said with a tiny smile.
“Not the best match,” he admitted with some humor.
“I have no princess experience,” Margot said. “Or anything close to it.”
“Well . . .” He shifted in his chair. “You must do something important on Earth. Transferable skills, maybe?”
“I'm a painter!” Margot cried. “And not the most successful one. I make a living, but that's it.”
“A painter?” he asked. “Do you . . . run a business?”
“No,” she said. “I can barely run myself some days.”
“So how . . .” He paused, thinking of the right words. “How did you end up here?”
