The Prince's Wedding

by Justine Davis

  She was only vaguely aware of the hush that fell over the guests as they saw her. The music began, a grand royal march composed by some eighteenth-century Montebellan, as she walked slowly toward him. At last she was there and he reached for her hand. The moment she felt his fingers clasp hers, her nerves vanished.

  "Did you like your present?" he whispered, and she poured all the love she was feeling into her expression as she nodded. "Good. We'll bring the second part back with us from the ranch. I can't wait to see you and Brat take on some of our bigger blowhards in the quarter mile."

  And right there, with a crowd in person and half the world watching on television, the bride burst into joyous, unabashed laughter. Her groom grinned widely, and winked at her.

  And out in the gathered throng, all those who had also found their forever loves turned and smiled at them, Sebastianis and Kamals and all the others. And not one of them doubted that the entwined futures of Montebello and Tamir were as solidly bright as the future of the bride and groom they watched pledge themselves to each other.

  * * * THE END * * *