Royal Wedding Disaster

by Meg Cabot

  “Speak for yourself,” Perin said. She’s the one bridesmaid who doesn’t like to wear dresses, and Mia wanted all of her friends to feel comfortable, so Sebastiano made her a morning suit, like the groomsmen’s, but with a purple tie. She looked very dashing in it.

  “I love my dress,” Tina said fiercely. “Purple is one of my favorite colors.”

  “Mine, too,” Marguerite and Victorine chimed in.

  “I look good in everything,” Luisa said. “So I don’t care.”

  “Everyone looks good in purple,” Shameeka said. And Shameeka would know, since she works in fashion. “Especially on a red carpet.”

  “I think you all look amazing.” Mia’s mom, who was wearing a dress that was a slightly different shade of purple than mine and Grandmère’s, looked pretty amazing herself. “But what matters is what Mia thinks. Mia, are you all right with it?”

  We all looked anxiously at Mia.

  “I…” Mia said, the corners of her mouth trembling. I couldn’t tell if she was happy or sad. “I…”

  Oh no! She hated it! Grandmère had been wrong, and the wedding was ruined! Only not because of a mistake—that my dog got muddy paw prints all over my dress, or that Rocky had eaten the top of the wedding cake—but because of something I’d done on purpose (well, mostly Grandmère had done it, but I hadn’t told her not to).

  I felt terrible.

  Then something amazing happened:

  My sister burst out laughing! The same way she’d laughed at the RGA, after we’d finished performing “All Roads Lead to Genovia.” It was almost like she was crying, she was laughing so hard. In fact, I was a little bit worried she was going to fall down, she was laughing so hard.

  “Oh no,” I heard Ling Su whisper. “The stress has finally gotten to her. She’s cracking up.”

  But then after a few seconds, Mia caught her breath, and, wiping tears from her eyes, said, “No, no, I’m fine. Really. The purple is great. I love it. You’re right, Olivia. Purple is the color of royalty.”

  Relief flooded through me—more even than when I’d woken up from my nightmare about Snowball and the paw prints and realized it had all been just a dream.

  “You see?” Grandmère leaned down to whisper to me, smiling in triumph. “I told you. We saved this wedding.”

  It was true! Grandmère’s plan (whatever it was) worked!

  Then my sister took each of her parents by the arm (after Paolo hurried over and redid her eyeliner, because it had become smeared when she cried), and turned toward the wide doors to the throne room. The music had grown louder. Soon, I knew, it would be our cue.

  That’s when I got nervous. It wasn’t over yet! There was still a chance I could ruin everything. After all, Nishi and I still had a very important job to do. Mia’s veil of handmade lace was impossibly delicate. If the weight of one very elderly cat could tear it, who knew what else could go wrong?

  Plus, when I bent to lift it, I happened to notice Luisa standing nearby with Marguerite and Victorine. They looked as much like naiads as Nishi and me. Except that they didn’t have tiaras, and I did.

  Maybe it was the fact that Grandmère and I had just made Mia cry with laughter right before her marriage to Michael. Maybe it was the music, or how beautiful my sister looked, or the sunlight, or all the sparkles. But suddenly, I was filled with love for everyone.

  Even Luisa Ferrari.

  “Luisa,” I said to her, overcome with emotion. “We’re cousins. But what I really want to be is friends. Let’s not fight, okay? At least not today.”

  Luisa smirked and rolled her eyes. “Kee-yow, Olivia. Whatever you say.”

  This wasn’t exactly the reaction I’d been hoping for. But considering it was Luisa, it was enough.

  And then we were standing outside the throne room, and I could hear all the people screaming outside the palace, and all the music inside, and knew:

  This was it. It was the Big Moment.

  “Everything’s going to be all right,” Vivianne said, shoving flower baskets into Luisa’s, Victorine’s, and Marguerite’s hands. “Remember, take it slow. There’s no rush. We have all the time in the world.”

  “We don’t, actually,” Grandmère said. “The television studio said to try to get it over with by the next commercial break.”

  “Princess Clarisse,” Vivianne said, “don’t you need to take your seat? Now?”

  Grandmère tossed her head, pulled Rommel close on his crystal leash, and disappeared.

  Paolo walked over and pressed a tissue to Luisa’s lips. “What did I say to you yesterday about this? Less is more. Did I say this?”

  Luisa tossed her own head. “I don’t remember.”

  “I do. I remember.” Paolo looked at Mia. “You look like an angel who fell down from heaven to be with us.”

  She smiled. “Don’t exaggerate, Paolo.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “This is what you say when someone pays you a compliment, Your Highness. Thank you. Why can you never say thank you? So many years and still no thank you.” To Dad, he said, “Too much bronzer. Someone fix the prince. Is this too much to ask?”

  “Annnd,” Vivianne said, tapping her headset. “Bridesmaids, take positions.”

  I lifted Mia’s train and was surprised by how much heavier the delicate handmade lace felt than the tablecloth she’d worn around her waist in yesterday’s rehearsal. It had to weigh a ton!

  I shot Nishi my “OMG!” look but felt an even bigger shock when I saw her face. She looked as if she was about to throw up.

  “Nishi,” I whispered urgently. “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t think so,” she whispered back. “I’m so nervous. I … I don’t know if I can do this.”

  Uh-oh.

  The truth was, I didn’t know if I could do it, either.

  But what choice did we have? We had to do it! For the people of Genovia, but more importantly, for my sister.

  “Nishi. Of course you can! This is what you’ve always dreamed of!”

  “Not this,” she whispered. “I mean, yes, this, but I didn’t think it would be like this.”

  “Like what?” I looked around. “This is EXACTLY what it’s like. We’re in beautiful dresses about to walk down the aisle of a throne room, and everyone is looking at us.”

  “I know!” she cried. “I don’t think I can take the pressure.”

  “All we have to do is hold the back of her dress,” I said, nodding at my sister. “How do you think SHE feels? She’s the one getting married. All we have to do is help by not messing up.”

  It was surprising how hard this was.

  Beyond the throne room doors, I could hear the music swelling. Rocky was probably well on his way down the aisle with the rings.

  “Are you ready?” I heard Dad murmur in front of us, but to Mia, not to us.

  “Are you?” she replied, and squeezed his arm, smiling. “Remember, you two aren’t losing a daughter. You’re gaining another member of the family business.”

  This was a little joke. The family business is the Royal House of Renaldo. When Michael marries Mia, he has to take her last name. That’s what royal consorts do.

  “I think he’ll make a fine addition,” Dad said, smiling back at her.

  “I do, too,” Helen Thermopolis said.

  “Look, if Rocky can do it,” I said to Nishi, “we can. He’s only nine.”

  “I guess that’s true.” She didn’t look very reassured. “But maybe we should let your cousin do it.” She nodded at Luisa, who was taking last-minute selfies with Marguerite and Victorine before Vivianne could confiscate their phones. “She’s had modeling experience.”

  “Are you KIDDING me?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “We can do this, Nishi. We’re only carrying a skirt.”

  “True,” Nishi said. “But on international TV.”

  It was pretty fortunate then that Mia turned to give us a dazzling smile. “I’m so happy you’re here,” she said. “You’re going to do great
.”

  Then Vivianne was saying, “Bridesmaids! Go!”

  Mia’s friends began to walk, followed by Victorine, Marguerite, and Luisa.

  And suddenly my sister and Dad were moving, and I had no chance to feel nervous, because I was too busy making sure Mia’s handmade lace veil and train stayed smooth and untangled, which really wasn’t that easy, seeing how long they were and how fast she was moving—not slow like Vivianne had instructed her.

  But when you’re a bride—and a princess—you can do whatever you want. And I suppose I’d be in a hurry to get it over with, too, if I were getting married, so I could get to the cake already.

  I had time to see that everyone on either side of the aisle had stood up and was smiling at us—well, at my sister, probably, but some people were also smiling at me and Nishi—as we went by. The music—the blaring trumpets and harps of the Genovian national anthem—sounded like heaven, and the crystals on my sister’s dress were still blazing like thousands of tiny diamonds in the sunlight streaming from the throne room windows.

  Even though she was going so fast, it took a while to get down to the throne room to where the prime minister was waiting, but neither Nishi nor I messed up once (nor did anyone else. I didn’t see a single flower petal out of place, or any wedding guests who might have been stabbed by Rocky’s sword).

  The only thing that WAS out of place was the expression on Michael’s face when we finally reached him at the end of the throne room. It was a lot like how he’d looked after we’d finished our “All Roads Lead to Genovia” performance—like he was trying not to cry.

  Only I don’t think he was crying with laughter this time, because there is definitely nothing funny about a Genovian wedding ceremony—no lederhosen or dirndls in sight. It’s completely serious!

  But I don’t think he was sad, either, or scared. I think he was happy, the way all those people in the Great Hall had been when Mia came down the stairs, or the way Mia was when she saw us in our purple dresses. I think Michael thought she looked really, really beautiful.

  And that made me want to cry with happiness, too.

  Only I didn’t have time, because I had a job to do. It’s no joke being in charge of the bridal train. After the music ended and the prime minister asked everyone to be seated, Nishi and I had to make sure Mia wasn’t twisted up in her skirt and veil. In fact, every time she turned toward the prime minister or Michael, we had to do this, or she could have fallen over due to her legs having become tangled in her own clothing!

  Genovian wedding ceremonies aren’t like the ones you see on TV where the bride and groom promise to honor each other in sickness and in health. Instead, Genovian brides and grooms promise to:

  • Stay true to the Genovian constitution and to each other

  • Educate and feed their children

  • Never hit each other, their children, or their livestock or pets

  • Pay their taxes (even though in Genovia there are no taxes)

  • Never throw fish heads into Genovian waters and pollute it, but dispose of them properly

  (That last one is very controversial and people have been asking for it to be taken out of the traditional Genovian wedding service. But Mia and Michael asked that it be left in, since neither of them is religious, but they feel some traditions should be preserved, such as the careful disposal of fish heads.)

  Even though I don’t really like mushy stuff, I thought it was a very romantic ceremony. (I didn’t cry, however, like Nishi did. Mia’s and Michael’s mothers cried, too, especially at the part about raising their children to be well-rounded Genovian citizens. Even Michael cried a little at that part, maybe because he was thinking about the twins, Han and Solo.)

  But he looked very serious when the prime minister got to the part where they exchanged rings—which turned out okay, because Prince Khalil took charge of the ring pillow as soon as Rocky got to the front of the room. Good thing, too, since Rocky spent most of the ceremony playing around with his sword, even though his mom kept giving him the evil eye—when she wasn’t crying, of course.

  Then Michael had to pledge his loyalty to the country of Genovia, forsaking citizenship of all other nations so that he could be prince consort of Her Royal Highness Princess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo.

  That’s when he had to kneel in front of Mia and pledge his undying troth to her, the crown, and the House of Renaldo.

  Then she took a sword and laid it once on each of his shoulders and pronounced him her royal consort Prince Michael Renaldo of Genovia, and the prime minister declared that he could kiss his bride.

  I thought Nishi was going to keel over with excitement, but I was so busy making sure Mia didn’t get tangled up in her veil and train (and also keeping Rocky from pulling out his own sword, since he thought this was the part where everybody got to swordfight) that I missed when the two of them actually kissed.…

  But I hear it was very, very steamy! Nishi said that Michael picked Mia up! And that Michael’s crown fell off (but Boris P caught it before it hit the dais).

  Anyway, the next thing I knew, everyone was cheering, and the bride and groom were hurrying down the aisle to where the royal carriages were waiting outside to begin the parade that would take them—and all of us—around downtown Genovia, to wave at the populace, receive congratulations, and have confetti thrown down on us from the upper windows of the quaint Genovian cottages and shops.

  Which I have to say was quite fun, except that Mia was right about one thing: purple really is quite hot in Genovia in summertime!

  Especially in an open-air carriage in the noonday sun, even when everyone is spraying champagne everywhere.

  But I’m not going to complain, because I’m the one who suggested it.

  Well, me and Grandmère.

  I can sort of see why Luisa is changing before tonight’s ball.

  But I’m not going to. Because here is a secret:

  Just now, when we got back from the parade and were standing around here in the throne room getting our photos taken (yes! We had to come back after the parade to get wedding photos, which is how I’ve had the time to write this. It’s so boring!), Prince Khalil came up to tell me I look “very nice” in my dress and tiara.

  I was surprised.

  Not that I like him or anything (except as a friend).

  But that was very sweet of him. He didn’t have to say I look nice.

  That’s not why I’m never changing out of this dress again. I just don’t want to, that’s all.

  Hmmmm … I wonder if Grandmère knew all along that purple is the color that looks best on me, and this was all part of her plan, or—

  Got to go. More royal wedding photos. Honestly, the work of being a princess never ends.

  Sunday, June 21

  Noon

  Royal Genovian Bedroom

  Day After the Royal Wedding

  EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Last night was the best night of my life!!!!!!

  I did change out of my dress. I had to, because Francesca, my wardrobe consultant, made me. She said everyone was going to be changing into evening wear for the ball, so I had to, too.

  I told her I couldn’t change because purple is my good luck color, and I didn’t have anything else purple, much less anything as fancy as what I knew Luisa would be wearing—her Claudio evening gown with the detachable skirt.

  But Francesca said, “Here,” and handed me something. It was a large box with a bow on it.

  I said, “What’s this?”

  “It’s from your sister,” Francesca said. “It’s your bridesmaid gift.”

  “Bridesmaid gift?” I echoed. “What’s a bridesmaid gift?”

  “It’s the gift the bride and groom give to members of their wedding party, to show their appreciation for your support.”

  My support? Well, I have been pretty supportive. Keeping that train and
veil from getting tangled was very, very difficult!

  But when I opened the box, I saw that Mia and Michael—or Prince Michael, as I suppose I should call him now—had gone way too far. Inside was a top made all over of sequins, with a big floaty wraparound skirt.

  “Oh!” I cried, even though as a general rule, I’m not a fan of dresses that are too girly (unless they’re for weddings, of course).

  But it wasn’t a dress. It was a skirt and top. Even better, the top was a swimsuit. A one-piece swimsuit made of sequins.

  “Yes,” Francesca said, not looking too happy about it. Francesca doesn’t approve of swimsuits with sequins on them. I know, because I’ve asked her for a sequined swimsuit about a million times, but she’s always said the same thing: Sequined swimsuits are inappropriate for young royals. Obviously Mia didn’t agree! “They consulted me about the size. There is a note. Perhaps you should read it.”

  I found the note and read it.

  From the Desk of HRH Amelia Renaldo of Genovia

  Dear Olivia,

  Michael and I want to thank you for everything you’ ve done to help make our wedding so wonderful. You’ve been so cheerful, patient, and kind, even when I know you weren’ t feeling that way.

  We especially want to thank you for the drawing you made of us, which I found under my door this morning. It’s beautiful. I’m going to have it framed and hung over the babies’ cribs, so they’ll always be able to see it, and think of us, and of you.

  You’re the best sister—and will be the best aunt—anyone could ever have. But most of all, you’re a true princess.

  Love,

  Mia

  I couldn’t believe it! This is the best letter I’ve ever gotten in my life.

  I’m so glad I tore that drawing I made of her and Michael from my notebook and slid it under her door this morning (after I found out that her wedding cake got destroyed).

  That’s not the only reason I did it, of course … it was the only thing I could think of to give them as a wedding present, since I don’t have any money, and the performance of “All Roads Lead to Genovia” didn’t really seem like that good of a gift. It was a gift from the entire school, not from me.