by Frankie Love
I walk out the front door, taking a deep breath, knowing this is my last walk from my house as a single man.
A charter plane landed behind my parents’ home half an hour ago. The plan was to have Iris whisked to the wedding chapel shortly after her arrival, where I’m to meet her. The priest will already be there to marry us with as little pomp and circumstance as possible. It’s a marriage, not a fucking celebration.
My parents may have arranged this marriage, but they knew the last thing I would want is to have some big-shot ceremony, requesting the attendance of all the people in town. That’s not how I operate.
So they agreed to a small private affair, as long as I’m willing to show up at the right time and kiss my bride.
It’s a little under a mile walk to the chapel, which is just inside the village square. Our city is set in the middle of the valley. Snowcapped mountain peaks surround us, there’s a lake on the outskirts of town, and while I wouldn’t mind seeing more of the world, I’ve never had a reason to leave.
Of course, there are plenty of people over the mountains. Cars, hospitals, a university. Even our military base and factories operate on that side of Alpinweiss. But here in the Historic Village, at the base of the mountain, we maintain life as it was hundreds of years ago, because the tourists love this escape back in time. But it’s all a mirage. The people who live and work in the village use iPads and cellphones and cable television.
But me? I live without those trappings; they’ve never seemed like anything but a fucking distraction. I’d rather look into the star-filled sky any night instead of a television screen. I’d rather hike through the forest trails than play fucking Crossy Road on a phone.
I see the chapel ahead, but stop when I notice a wagon with a broken axel on the side of the road. I know this is Thomas’s wagon, and that he uses it to carry produce to the farmers’ market every day. I know it will mean I’m late for my own wedding, but I roll up my shirtsleeves and assess the problem.
Thomas comes trapping with me sometimes, and I never hesitate to help him with harvest.
In his wagon I find in a tool, then, on my hands and knees, I use a hammer and nails to splint the broken wood.
I walk away as Thomas returns, knowing he won’t have the money he’d try to repay me with anyway. And I can’t wait around to tell him what I fixed, because I’m already late.
“Prince,” he calls out. “You helped me again, I see. How will I repay you?”
“Next time you see someone in need, lend a hand.”
I care about this country, I just hate the way my parents and their royal court forget their priorities. The people who work in the village, who keep up the “old-world” mirage, are the forgotten ones. My parents and their friends don’t seem to value the people who work hard to keep this place running.
In the heart of the village, I see the whitewashed chapel. Taking a deep breath, I step inside.
My parents are here, in the front row, and the priest stands beside my father. They turn to me when I enter.
Next to them stands a woman straight out of a dream. I pause, not having expected this.
Not expecting her.
I can’t bear to look at her, because she looks so bright and beautiful. She looks like the sun and the fucking stars, and like a glittering sea.
It takes a moment to realize this is no enigma. This is my bride.
“You all been here long?” I ask, directing my question to no one in particular as I walk forward. Honestly, I’m caught off guard. My parents tried to show me a picture of Iris last night, after they broke the news of my impending marriage, but I shoved them off, saying I had work to do and that I like to be surprised.
But damn, my cock is already twitching; this surprise is way more than I bargained for.
“Garrick, come forth,” my father directs.
I walk to the front of the chapel, facing the priest. My mother, wearing her crown and a long velvet gown, points to the empty spot on which I’m to stand.
Right beside Iris.
Iris looks at me expectantly, and I’ve never felt so large in my life. Usually, under the shadow of the mountains, I feel like I fit right in. But next to this slip of a girl, I feel massive—too tall and like I don’t fit.
My shoulders are broad, and my muscles pull at the seams of my shirt. My boots are big enough for her to practically crawl into.
Her eyes are wide and I see her catch her breath.
Damn it, I look at her, and a hundred things flash through my mind. Her perfectly proportioned body, her blonde hair hanging in soft waves to her waist. Her pink lips pressed together, her long white dress. All of it mine.
“Prince Garrick,” the priest, who has known me since infancy, begins, “and Princess Iris, we are gathered here today to unite in holy matrimony....”
I can’t even make out his words. My mind races, thinking about how badly I want to get Iris out of that dress that’s clinging to her body so perfectly. I want to see all of her, take all of her. One look at her, and I’m ready to get to a wedding night I never planned on enjoying.
“Do you, Prince Garrick of Alpinweiss, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold....” At that bit I think, hell yeah, she’s mine to hold. She’s mine to do plenty of things to. “Until death do you part?”
“I do.” Behind me, I hear my parents exhale. This is everything that they’ve been waiting for. Dreaming of. Planning for me.
“And do you, Princess Iris of Elexia, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold until death do you part?” Her white lace dress touches the floor; I’m sure she must be frigid in the thin dress, considering it’s the end of fall and the temperatures are dropping below forty each night. But right now she doesn’t give away anything besides hope.
Then she takes a deep breath and I see that it isn’t just hope brimming in her eyes—there’s an equal measure of fear, in the form of tears.
“I do,” she exhales, filling the room with a gentle, warm voice. A voice much softer than any of the women who live in Alpinweiss. The women here are solid, and their voices boom in the rough mountain air.
The priest tells us to exchange rings, and the moment I take her hand in mine an electric charge passes between us.
There’s no reason I should think this princess with glittering cheeks and sun-kissed skin will be able to hack it in Alpinweiss, but right now I’m mighty glad she’s here.
Because maybe she won’t be able to hack it outside under the snow of the mountain, but the truth is, I don’t need her hacking it out there. By the looks of things, she’ll do just fine inside on her back.
Chapter 5
I slip the ring onto Prince Garrick’s finger, and everything within me suppresses the desire to get up and run. My eyes are filled with tears, because I was not expecting my royal wedding to go like this. Not in the least. I was just grateful I’d worn a floor-length, lacy white sundress on the plane, hoping I’d look the part of a bride-to-be.
Little did I know, the moment I stepped off the plane I’d be whisked straight to a ceremony as lackluster as this chapel.
This morning as I packed my suitcase with Dahlia, I tossed in my bras and panties thinking I could conquer the world. I truly thought nothing could get in the way of this moment. This destiny.
But then, I stepped off the plane here in Alpinweiss, and I literally walked into a field.
No limousine was waiting for me. No grand trumpet parade regaled me.
Instead, the king and queen of Alpinweiss were waiting for me as I exited the plane, reaching out their hands and wrapping me in warm hugs.
That part was nice—being greeted so warmly—and they were in velvet and satin, a brocade coat on the king, and crowns on both of their heads. They were royalty, clearly, and they came with a horse-drawn carriage to deliver me to my prince.
Even though he wasn’t here, I assumed they were going to make some grand spectacle of my arrival. Especially co
nsidering they were dressed in such finery.
But that never happened.
Queen Julia and King VonTrap explained that behind us stood the castle, which was actually quite obvious. Large turrets with banners waved in the breeze, looking historic and regal, just as I’d seen in the images on the internet. Still, seeing it in person I grinned. I was certainly far from the open air castle of Elexia.
It seemed I had gotten exactly what I asked for: an adventure, that was for sure.
This morning, as I boarded the plane, Father kissed me on both cheeks and told me he thought I was so brave and so strong, and that I could do anything if I put my mind to it, and that everything would be okay in the end.
I remember thinking his words of affirmation seemed odd—strange, even. I expected my father to tell me something along the lines of I love you, darling daughter, and I’ll miss you ever so very much.
But warning me to stick with it?
I wondered if it was truly going to be that big of a challenge.
After I got in the horse-drawn carriage with the King and Queen, we galloped through a small village where everything looked like it was right out of a story book. It was quaint and small—thatched roofs and cobblestones and chimneys. People with carts selling produce on the side of the road, roasted chestnuts being sold by the bagful, and tourists stopping to take photographs of the “idyllic” scene.
The carriage stopped in front of a tiny chapel, where exactly zero people were waiting for us, but I didn’t need a bunch of people, just my prince. Or so I thought.
But as I stand here in a tiny chapel, holding a golden ring, without anyone I know as a witness for this momentous day, I understand my father’s warning. I feel all alone in this new world.
I look at the prince before me. He’s a solid foot and a half taller than me and at least that broad in the shoulders. He has a scruffy beard, and intimidating eyes that seem to penetrate me to my very core. I can’t help but wonder if I really can hack it as this man’s wife—because the truth is, I haven’t steeled myself for this reality.
I’m getting married to a stranger. Right now.
Am I ready for this? To be his?
Suddenly I’m scared.
I blink once, twice, fighting the tears that are threatening to surface. He takes my hand in his and slips a simple gold band over my ring finger.
This is really, really happening.
I do feel slightly disappointed that I’m not getting a royal wedding, but I can’t deny that something passes between Garrick and me when we exchange rings, and that’s more important to me than some fancy show.
I’m forced to squeeze my legs together, because with just the touch of his hand, I’m already imagining his body possessing mine.
And so, as we exchange rings, I focus on that simple truth. That his eyes are on mine, and that he’s looking at me as if he wants to devour me.
“You may now kiss your bride,” the priest announces.
Garrick doesn’t hesitate. He leans down, his palm wrapping around the base of my neck, tilting my chin up ever so slightly with his thumb. We lock eyes, and the room stills. The fluttering in my stomach and the fear and the resounding worry that Dahlia was absolutely right about him—they all disappear.
Garrick, my husband, kisses me.
He kisses me, and time stops.
His lips are unexpectedly warm, and the calluses on his hand rub against the soft skin of my neck. I hear a moan, and to my horror I realize that moan is coming from me.
Garrick’s tongue pushes past my lips and I open my mouth ever so slightly, granting him access to a part he wants to take.
I sink into the kiss, knowing his parents are watching and a priest is watching. He doesn’t seem to care, so neither do I.
Then, just as suddenly, he pulls away from me, blinks.
I press my hands to my heart, catching my breath, because I’ve never been kissed in my life, and I certainly never imagined it could be like that.
Garrick’s jaw tenses as he looks down at me, as if he’s considering me as his wife.
The priest smiles. “I now present to you the Prince and Princess of Alpinweiss.”
I look around the chapel. The queen is blotting her eyes with a tissue, and the king is beaming proudly with a smile across his face; everyone seems so happy.
I hear his parents mutter “thank God” and “it’s about time,” and I realize it isn’t so much happiness on their faces as relief.
Except for Garrick. Because whatever sliver of romance passed between us when we kissed is long gone. Now he coughs into his elbow, nods to his parents.
“We’ll be off then,” he tells them.
“Oh, Garrick,” his mother says, “wait a moment. Let us bring you back to the castle and feed you some supper. I know you insisted that no one know about the wedding, but … well, the truth is, we did tell a few people. The cook prepared a lovely meal for you and Iris. And don’t hate me, Garrick, but we also sent notice around about your nuptials.”
“Sent notice?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow, and I have to admit, even though he seems disgruntled at his mother’s announcement, his raised eyebrow does make my heart do that fluttering thing again.
“I’m guessing a few hundred will join us for the reception,” she admits.
Garrick groans. “I made one request. One simple request. That we just get married in peace. I don’t want a show, and never asked for one.”
“Oh, Garrick,” the king says. “It’s not a show, it’s just a reception for our son and his wife. The dignitaries at court need to see a more genial side of you. You’re always so grumpy around them. A reception with a bit of publicity will show them your softer side. With Iris’s help.”
“I don’t give a shit about what those people think of me.”
I sigh, trying to redefine my surroundings.
So at first sight I assumed these people were simply assholes that didn’t want to celebrate our wedding. But now I realize it wasn’t about the King and Queen not wanting to make this a special day. It was about their son—my husband—not giving a rat’s ass about me being here.
I swallow my pride, however bitter it may be. Because it’s okay; I don’t need Garrick to like me instantly. I’m certain I can win him over soon enough.
Especially if the winning-over occurs at a party. I’ve been waiting my entire life for some real fun. Some royal fun.
Garrick looks me over, scowling. “What are you smiling about?”
I shrink into myself, instantly hating that his tone causes me to become smaller. I don’t do smaller. I do bigger-than-life. Insistently, I raise my chin, open my eyes wider, and pull back my shoulders. “I love a good party.”
“Are you kidding me with this?” he asks, not even addressing me with the question. He looks over at his mother and father.
“Don’t be rude, Garrick,” the king says sternly. “You agreed,”
“I agreed to a marriage. I didn’t agree to go on fucking parade.”
“Oh, fine,” the queen says. “Just go back to your cabin and pretend your parents don’t care about their only son and his wedding day. We’ll send the guests home.”
I swallow, realizing I’m witnessing a family feud.
“I’m not being rude,” Garrick says flatly. “I did my part. I’ll continue to do my part. I got married, because it’s what my family wanted. And I’ll give you an heir, because it’s my duty. But I’m not committing to anything more than that.”
Behind us, the priest coughs and says, “Well, son, you have committed to one more thing. You committed to Iris. She’s your wife.”
“Goddammit,” Garrick hollers, ticked off. “She’s my wife, and I’m taking her home.”
With that, he grabs my hand and leads me out of the chapel without another word.
Chapter 6
The moment we’re outside the chapel, we see people waiting around, ready to gawk at us. I’m guessing the tourists got wind of whatever reception my mother
was cooking up at the castle, and put two and two together.
Under my breath, I mutter, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Realizing that Iris has stopped in the center of the sidewalk, I know we need to get out of here, stat. The last thing I want is to get caught up in some press release. I wrap my arms around Iris, pulling her close to me, noticing the way her breasts press against my chest—and I admit, that forces me to pull her in even more tightly.
“We’re good here. Move along,” I call out, raising my free hand and waving at the people. More like, waving off the people.
“Is there a car for us somewhere?”
“We don’t have cars in the village. You can get yourself a car over the mountains, that’s fine, but we keep things old-school here.”
“Oh,” she says flatly. “We don’t drive cars in Elexia either. I mean, we have golf carts and people drive motorbikes, but no cars.”
I frown; I didn’t realize we’d find common ground so fast. Not that it’s a bad thing, but I’m just adjusting my understanding of where this woman is from. Maybe she’s used to having a less than privileged lifestyle.
As we walk down the street, the people surrounding us are respectful; since the announcement of my wedding was short notice, there aren’t too many people around. I’d stop and say hello if any of these people were the actual people of Alpinweiss, but the people here are obvious tourists, holding up their camera phones and trying to capture the newest royal couple. I lower my head, refusing to be a part of this charade.
Iris lifts her head confidently and scans the crowd. She smiles, waves. People stare openly at her, but scowl at me. Anyone who doesn’t live and work in the village thinks I’m an ass—mostly because I’ve never participated in their bullshit photo ops. I work, do my duty, lend a hand. But I won’t play the part that the media and paparazzi want.
“You don’t have to do that—wave at them. No one here needs a princess like you.”
“A princess like me?” Iris asks through a gritted-teeth smile. “I’m going to assume you mean that in the best way possible?”
