Once Upon a Royal Wedding

by Laurie LeClair

  Inside, she longed for her mother. Somehow the sea made Sophia feel closer to her and allowed her to shift through her troubled thoughts.

  Nothing soothed Sophia’s tortured soul.

  Sebastian.

  He was never far from her thoughts and always in her battered heart.

  How could it have turned out like this? They loved each other.

  For all anyone knew, she was still engaged, still preparing for her wedding in less than two weeks. The numerous royal planners were hard at work, attacking the many details on following protocols and the many needs of visiting royalty and dignitaries.

  Belle called and texted and refused to be shut out.

  Sophia’s voice mails reached their limits. Belle’s grew more frantic, wondering what was going on, what was wrong, why was Stephan not able to contact Sebastian, too.

  Now, Sophia shoved away from the outside balcony and returned to her mother’s small parlor, gently closing the French doors, blocking the sounds of the chirping birds and the sweet sea breeze. She grinned sadly at the photo albums scattered on the ottoman.

  The last few days, she’d taken to gazing through them, yearning for answers and connections.

  Bone weary, she went to the chair, plopped down and gingerly gathered them together. Photos poked out and she tried to tap them back in; some went, others did not cooperate.

  Her cell phone rang, startling her. Her little jolt unsettled the top two photo albums and she lunged to grab them. They and her ended up on the floor.

  Sophia rolled to her back and banged her head against the floor—even the expensive plush rug didn’t stop the bump. “Why me?”

  The ringing continued. She shifted, stretching to grasp it. Her fingertips skimmed the surface. She surged forward, grabbed it up, and then answered when she saw Belle’s name come up.

  “I’m alive.” Sophia stayed on the floor, absently straightening the wayward pictures spread about.

  “Well, you finally pick up after days and days. What in the heck is going on with you?” Exasperation colored her words.

  “Things are…not good.”

  “What?! You cannot say that to me, your best friend. Okay, it’s just the jitters or something.”

  “Not even close.”

  “Cold feet?”

  “Worse.”

  “Stop pulling my leg.”

  “He…” She couldn’t say his name out loud. “Dumped me.” She winced and slowly pushed herself up, sitting now. Sophia splayed the loose pictures, fanning them out.

  “Shut up!” In the background, Belle dropped something; the crashing sound echoed down the line.

  A tiny part of Sophia cracked. She bit back a cry. “Belle. He. I.” She sucked in a sharp, painful breath.

  “Don’t keep me hanging here. I’m only like thousands of miles away and can’t get to you to hug you right now. So spill it.”

  Hot tears rolled down Sophia’s cheeks. In fits and bits, she choked out the gist of what happened. “In his own noble way, he’s protecting me.” She knew it down to her core.

  “I’m calling Stephan. He’ll shake some sense into Sebastian.”

  “No. Please don’t. I need to figure this out.” She wiped her hand over her cheeks, brushing away the moisture. Her vision cleared, too, and she began stacking the pictures to put back in the appropriate photo albums—in chronological order the way her mother had placed them.

  “Figure what exactly?” Belle muttered under her breath. “Oh, what about your dress? It’s nearly complete here. We only need a few last fittings on you and we’re done.” Silence hit. “I guess I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

  Sophia’s chest hurt. Something deep inside urged her on. “I still want it. No matter what or how…”

  “Look, if you ask me—”

  “I didn’t.” She forced herself to smile at her own quick comeback. Her friend was always good medicine.

  “Oh, now you’re funny.” But Belle chuckled. “Make up your own rules.”

  “For what exactly?” The sharp edge of the picture slipped under a fingernail. Ow! She rubbed the tender spot and then turned back to the photos of her mother as a little girl—grinning at the image of Sophia’s mini-me staring back at her—with someone’s hands in the shot as if they were trying to keep her mother from falling. Or just keeping up with her.

  “Hello, your life. Don’t hate me for this, but the king has you under his thumb and always has. He’s filled your head with crazy stuff, scaring you into doing as he says and when he says and how he says.”

  The hard truths hit Sophia in the middle of her chest. “Fear.” He ruled her with fear of never being perfect, never being good enough for her own title, and lately never living up to her beloved mother’s expectations…as he repeatedly pointed out with sharp reprimands and stern, disappointed glares.

  Sophia sucked in a slow breath and let it out.

  “Belle, I know what I have to do now.”

  Before Sophia lost her courage, she grabbed the pictures and raced to her mother’s desk, plopping them down. On the edge, she found a few extra wedding invitations.

  With her heart in her throat, she selected one, opened it, and then wrote a note.

  Sebastian, marry me on this day. You made a sacred pledge to me, and I expect you to honor it, husband of mine. Your beloved princess.

  She folded it quickly, stuffed it in the accompanying envelope, hastily filled out the front with his name and address, and then sealed it with her royal stamp.

  Her hand shook as she used the phone on the desk, pressing the appropriate number.

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Zeb, could you please have the car brought around in an hour? I have an…errand.”

  He hesitated. “Did you clear it through security yet?”

  “Do they need to know?”

  “I’m afraid so. And they, in turn, inform…the king of your whereabouts.”

  Among the things in front of her, propped up since the morning after the charity event, Sophia spotted Dr. Langston’s card. She read off his name and company address to Zeb, emphasizing his role on the board.

  She’d clue Zeb in later and beg him to mail out the invitation. He liked Sebastian and perhaps this could stay just between her driver and her.

  Once she hung up with her driver, Sophia placed a call to Dr. Langston’s office, who was more than happy to see her today.

  With every step she took, her stance grew stronger. Standing up to her father would take everything she had in her and more. She’d been complacent long enough.

  As that thought entered her mind, Sophia noted the grainy photo stuck behind another one. Gingerly, she eased the glue away, careful to not ruin the hidden one. It peeled away with a slight, crisp snapping sound.

  “Strange…” For the first time, she saw the complete black-and-white fuzzy image of the woman, whose hands and sometimes arms tried to chase her mother as a child in other pictures. “There’s something familiar about her—”

  The woman was seated and gazing up at the person taking the photo.

  “It’s her! The woman in the wheelchair outside the palace. Sh-she knew my mother.”

  Sophia flipped the picture over. “Nothing.”

  A fission of unease slipped inside her at the encounter weeks ago. Sophia brushed it aside, nearly forgetting about it with all the wedding preparations, until now. Maybe she needed to press Zeb on helping her find out more about this woman. A short time ago, he’d asked his fellow drivers; however, they hadn’t known the elder lady.

  She gazed at the woman in the photo again, recalling their meeting.

  Her urgency. Her fierceness.

  Who was she?

  Chapter 9

  Sebastian stepped back from the horse stall, swiping his sweaty brow with the back of his hand and leaning the pitchfork against the wooden wall.

  He’d worked until he ached and kept working.

  Something about the physical torture blocked his men
tal agony. However, neither stopped his busted and twisted heart.

  Days blended with nights and nights with days as he forced his tired muscles to keep moving.

  Could a man die from stupidity? He should. He’d given up the one person who had snuck in and washed away his years of pain, urging him to recognize he was worthy of her love.

  Sophia, I miss you.

  Clamping down on his jaw and gritting his teeth against another wave of hurt, he grabbed the pitchfork and turned. He reared back at the man standing in front of him. “Stephan? Why don’t you tell someone you were here instead of sneaking up behind them and startling them?” Slowly, he leaned the handle back where it had been.

  His best friend crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m trying not to punch you in the nose right now.”

  “Nice to see you, too.” Who had told him?

  “Imagine my surprise when I can’t get ahold of you for days, I hop on my jet to come see you, and I discover—from one of your staff, mind you—that you have called off your wedding to Sophia. Your villagers are walking around like someone died. You didn’t tell me. I had to hear it from them.” His anger pulsed in the barn.

  “You’re not my keeper.” Why had he lashed out at the one person who had always fought for him, championed him, and had his back?

  “Is that how this is?” Stephan opened his arms and waved his hands. Before he could say another word, he landed a fist.

  Sebastian took it on the jaw, jarring him. His head jerked back at the force. Pain spread from the point of impact and fanned out and up. He stumbled, but stayed on his feet. However, he stepped back and propped himself up against the half wall. “I deserved that.”

  “Yes, you did.” But Stephan’s words didn’t hold any more animosity. “Come on. We both need ice. And your best Scotch.” He flexed his hand. “How’s your face feeling?”

  “Better than my heart.”

  Sophia—having sworn Zeb to secrecy in sending off the invitation for her only an hour ago and carefully requesting he track down the mystery woman—waited anxiously for Dr. Langston to arrive at his office.

  “I’m late, I know.” He barged in, smoothing back his disheveled hair. He attempted to straighten his rumpled suit.

  Her security duo eyed him.

  She nodded to the overly suspicious men and then went to the doctor, shaking his hand with both of hers. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

  “Oh, it’s my pleasure. Can I have my assistant get you something?” He included her team.

  That seemed to have scored points with them. “Maybe next time. I won’t keep you long.” She improvised on the way over; however, seeing him, she remembered how bright and likable the man had been the other evening when she wanted to know more about his study. She slid the invitation across his desk. “Please come to the wedding. You and a guest.”

  “Me?” He touched the beautiful parchment. “I’m not sure…” He halted. “That friend of mine, the one who met you, she’s recovering nicely. Would it be all right if I bring her? I know it goes against royal procedures, but she did seem to take a turn for the better after I told her about the night I met you at the charity event.”

  Sophia sighed with satisfaction. “That’s a yes, I take it. That will be a lovely start. I’d like to work with you.”

  “Work?” He looked puzzled.

  “Wrong word choice.” She chuckled. “No, Dr. Langston, the children’s charities.” The more she spoke, the more it solidified in her mind. “There’s a very enthusiastic woman I think can join us, organizing and promoting events and such.”

  The idea had struck Sophia. Agatha, the bug lady, needed a better cause to champion with her zest for helping. Hopefully, she’d accept.

  “I’d like to start one in…honor of my future husband for his countrymen. It’s a special wedding gift I want to give Sebastian.” There, she’d said it. Her heart filled with light and love for the incredible man she never wanted to live without.

  But would he, could he, put aside his pride to accept her demand he fulfill his lifetime promise to be her husband?

  Two days later, Sebastian still ached with overexertion. His friend had matched his drive and work in the barn and then on the cottage—the one Stephan had forced Sebastian to complete, even without the chance of Sophia ever living there—and he looked far better. Maybe it was the fresh air on the horseback ride.

  “I hate you sometimes.” Sebastian grinned, guiding his mount toward the village.

  “Can’t be as much as I hate you, friend.” Stephan chuckled. “What did you decide?”

  “Why do you assume I made up my mind?” Sebastian glanced back at the castle, then to the cottage, and last to the top of the highest hill where he had taken Sophia that night. His heart tugged, hard and sharp. “Know anyone who wants to buy a castle?”

  Stephan yanked on the reins of his horse, halting them. “Sell?”

  “It’s a shell without her. More like I’m a shell without Sophia.” He breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to play tug-of-war at Sophia’s expense any longer. She needed to rule her country when the time came and he’d be there to support her in every way. “I’ll have the cottage to use when we visit.” Now, if only he could beg her forgiveness and convince her to give him another chance.

  As they continued on and approached the busy village, Sebastian noted the old faded truck barreling toward them. The brakes squealed to a halt on the dirt road, the driver sticking out his arm.

  He nudged his horse toward the older man. “What’s wrong, Paddy?”

  “Letter for you.” He leaned out and waved something. “Mighty important.”

  Confused, Sebastian directed his horse to side-step to get nearer the driver’s side. Once there, he accepted the mail. His blood pounded at the familiar purple-and-gold invitation. He noted the royal seal before ripping it open.

  Sebastian couldn’t breathe. His hands shook. He read her words. His pledge. Their pledge. That night, under the full moon, they made a commitment to each other.

  It meant more than just words to her. Even now.

  Somehow, some way, Sophia had forgiven him for being a fool.

  “Stephan, how fast can you get me to Sophia? I don’t want to be late for my own wedding.”

  Chapter 10

  Nearly seven hours later, in the dead of night, Sebastian remained thankful for his friend and now Zeb, who met them at the airport and whisked them away through empty streets and toward the castle. The driver’s top credentials gained him easy access to guarded airstrips and through tight security.

  Sebastian’s nerves jumped higher and faster with every mile closer.

  If he had to wake Sophia and the entire castle, he didn’t care. He longed to hold Sophia in his arms, feel her wrap hers around his neck, and then taste her soft, sweet lips again. It felt like an eternity since he’d seen her.

  As for her father, he had no idea how to appease the man’s preoccupation with unattainable expectations for his only daughter and her heirs. Sebastian would do his best in finding a neutral ground; he was done with tearing Sophia apart.

  “We’re close.”

  Stephan’s words yanked Sebastian back to the moment. He jerked his head to stare out the window, seeing the softly lit castle from a short distance.

  His hand shook as he grabbed for his cell phone and texted her. Meet me?

  Less than ten seconds later, he received a response.

  Where?

  He blew out a pent-up breath. Outside your front door.

  Nothing came back. Not. A. Thing.

  A knot in his gut tightened. Had she had second thoughts? Would she refuse to see him or had the king found out and forbade her to?

  The engine shifted as Zeb slowed the car and drew near the high, intimidating, intricately designed, closed gold royal gates. Zeb powered down his window.

  Guards drew to attention. Words were exchanged.

  Sebastian couldn’t make out the conversatio
n other than Zeb’s voice growing stern.

  Finally, the guard tapped the car’s side, backed up, and then keyed the walkie-talkie. “All clear. Let them in.”

  The gate inched open, parting enough to allow the width and maybe two feet more to pass.

  The mass in Sebastian’s belly grew as they gently rolled down the long drive, winding to the left in a half-circle. One light after another popped on, guiding their way.

  To doom?

  To glory?

  Sebastian questioned his sanity. He searched the perfectly manicured grounds, craning his neck to see the palace stairs and doors.

  No one.

  Dread gathered.

  Zeb halted.

  Too antsy to wait for the driver to come around, Sebastian flung open the door and got out. He yanked out the wrinkled invitation from his top shirt pocket, gripping it.

  He heard a noise and jerked his head up.

  Sophia poked her head out. She slid through a small opening in the large doors and rushed down the stairs to him. Her pretty King’s lavender silk robe, loose over her matching pajamas, flowed out behind her.

  Sebastian raced to meet her halfway up the marble steps. He caught her warm, small body to him, hugging her close and lifting her up. He breathed her in, noting her intoxicating, delicate floral-scented perfume. Or was that just her? “Sophia.”

  “I can’t believe you’re actually here. It’s so good to touch you.”

  He heard the tears in her voice and felt them on his neck. “Forgive me. I’m a fool.”

  “We both were.” She pulled back, cupped his face in her soft palms, and looked long into his gaze, stealing his heart again. “I wanted to be loved. I thought if only I could be better, always strive for excellence in everything, I could earn it. I gave too much away. The price was too high.” She shook her head. “Being me is better than being the best or perfect. Am I making sense?”

  “Yes.” He sighed. She’d discovered how important she was. For that he was grateful, whatever it had taken for her to get there. “I love you just as you are. I want to build a life with you, not around or against you.” He realized he needed her more than he had to prove he could save his people, who were doing a great job on their own. “Can we do that together?”