by Romy Sommer
She was grateful she’d taken the time to darken her hair and the sunglasses helped too, as no one recognised her. She had no clue how she’d answer the inevitable questions if they did.
Number one being why was she here on an over-crowded municipal bus and not getting glammed up for her front row seat in the cathedral.
On the plus side, if Max would give her the time of day, she’d have a lot to tell him. He need have no fear of a referendum. Her fellow bus passengers were all big fans, increasingly so as the beer flowed and the bus drew closer to the coronation.
She shielded her eyes against the sun’s glare as she stepped down off the bus at the terminus. The main pedestrian boulevard which ran down through the sloping town to the river embankment had been decorated with acres of bunting in blue and white, the nation’s colours, and the dragon and rose motif dominated. The town was dressed in its full festive finery, the sidewalks crammed with people, music playing from speakers in every street and fountains of wine everywhere she turned.
It took her the better part of an hour to get from the bus station up into the old part of town, since everyone and their mother was headed the same way.
In the town square the café was closed. Phoenix stood at the locked door and glanced at her watch. She needed a plan and she needed it fast.
Already the luxury sedans passed through the square, a slow, stately procession of VIPs headed to the medieval cathedral within the town’s walls.
The cathedral. In less than half an hour that’s where Max would be. And that’s where she would go. It was too late for a seat inside the cathedral, but there was no way she was missing the biggest day of his life.
Max stood before the tall mirror and cast a critical eye over his costume. He hadn’t played dress-up in years and the uniform, which the seamstress had still been working on at dawn, was definitely one of the most elaborate he’d ever worn.
The gold braid winked in the light, as he moved to slide the thin sword into the stiff leather scabbard at his waist. The only thing missing from this outrageous outfit was the white plumed hat that went with the army’s full ceremonial dress. Though since he’d already done a few practise walks with the crown of his ancestors on his head, he knew that was no piece of cake either.
He looked almost as ridiculous as he felt. Phoenix would have gotten a kick out of this.
His gut twisted.
Better not to think of her.
Better not to think of anyone he’d ever cared about.
He squared his shoulders. Phoenix had it right. It was better not to care. Caring only opened you up to heartbreak.
No matter how much you loved someone, no matter how much faith you had in them, still they let you down. Still they left you alone.
His breath stuck in his throat. Today should have been celebrated among friends and family. Instead, his family were scattered to the four winds and the best friend he had in the world had run away again.
“You look mighty fine!”
He turned at the sound of the familiar voice, the lump in his throat dissolving. “Granddad! What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t think we’d leave you to do this all alone, did you? Your mother insisted your Gran and I come in her place.” His normally twinkling eyes were grave. “She wasn’t sure what reception she would get and didn’t think having the populace hurl rotten tomatoes at the procession would help you much.”
Max managed a laugh. “Damn right, it wouldn’t.” He enveloped the old man in a bear hug. His grandfather was still spry for his age, though these days Max dwarfed him by at least a head. “You haven’t heard from Rik, have you?”
“He’s safe, he’s okay, and he sends you his best wishes. He still needs some time to adjust to the change in circumstances.”
“Him and me both,” Max muttered. “This should have been his day.”
His grandfather shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Destiny has a way of making sure everything works out for the best.”
Max snorted. “Don’t you start on all that Destiny crap too. I’ve had about as much of it as I can take.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.” His grandfather gripped his fore-arms and looked into his eyes. “You haven’t been sleeping. And you look unhappy. Where’s your girl – the one you met in Vegas?”
Max shrugged out of his grip and turned back to the mirror, straightening his epaulettes. “She’s gone.”
“Ah.”
Exactly. Max couldn’t have said it better.
“She running scared by all this?” The old man asked.
“Terrified out of her wits, and not just by the whole royal thing. And there’s nothing I can do about it but let her go.”
His grandfather moved to stand between him and the mirror, ensuring he had Max’s attention. “I don’t know much about the European side of your family, but I’ll tell you this. My family arrived in America with nothing. They crossed the country in a horse-drawn wagon and carved out a home in a hostile land. They braved the Wild West and drought and depression. You come from a long line of fighters, and it’s not in you to give up. You want her? Then you damn well fight for her. You hear me?”
Max felt himself grin for the first time in days. “I hear you, Granddad.” It was nice to have someone in his corner who cared more about him than about the state of the nation.
“Your grandmother’s waiting for me at the car and the officials in charge of the procession were very insistent we leave on time, so I better hurry.” He headed for the door. “You knock ‘em dead, son.”
“I will.” Max shook his grandfather’s hand and watched until the old man had disappeared from sight. Then he moved to the desk to fetch the notes for his speech. These were the carefully chosen words he’d laboured over with Phoenix. He glanced through them and something settled in his stomach. Not the weight he was growing used to, but a sense of calm. He left the notes on his desk and headed out towards the waiting state car.
Max hadn’t expected such crowds. Of course, he’d known many of the town’s citizens would turn out, since the weather was good, and he knew there were people who’d made the journey from around the duchy courtesy of the free bus service he’d insisted on. But the press of people lining every street was unexpected. The cheer that rose up as his open-topped car emerged from the castle precinct was deafening and it continued unabated as the procession inched its way through the old part of town. Flags waved, banners wishing him well in every language imaginable hung from the buildings and the roar of the national anthem blaring from speakers engulfed him. He waved and waved, smiling without the forced expression he’d worn all week.
He could do this. He could even do it alone, if he had to. But he’d really rather not. Fight for what you want.
Granddad’s words echoed around him, in the roar of the crowd, in the peal of the church bells, in the sirens of the bikes escorting him through the old town walls and into the wider streets of the newer part of town, downhill towards the cathedral, its golden bell tower glinting in the sunlight.
Fight for what you want.
He wanted to be the best Arch Duke this country had ever seen. He wanted to bring this nation into the 21st century and watch it grow and flourish. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have everything else his heart desired too.
Even if Destiny needed a kick in the ass for him to get it.
The car pulled up before the stairs to the cathedral. A uniformed attendant opened the car door and Max stepped out. On the top step he paused and turned to wave to the crowd gathered in the open plaza in front of the cathedral. The cheer, impossibly, grew louder.
He felt their expectation like a physical force in the air. And something more, a sudden certainty that out there in the crowd, was the other half of his soul.
“We need to move inside now,” the officious attendant said.
Max shook his head. “Everyone inside can wait. This day is for the people.” Not for him, not for his cabinet, or for the visiting royal
s and heads of state from around the world. Today was for the people of Westerwald, who had travelled from around the country and perhaps even farther, to be here today, when they could be watching on television in the comfort of their own homes.
He smiled at the barrage of cameras in the crowd, waved again and only then did he turn on his heel and step inside the nave.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkened interior and for his heart to adjust its rapidly skipping beat.
Then he began the long walk down the aisle, through the patches of coloured light showering down from the tall stained glass windows above. He wasn’t alone. He had an entire nation at his back, a family who loved him, far away as they were and a woman out there waiting for him to claim her.
Phoenix had managed to find a vantage spot on the steps of a building of law offices edging the cathedral’s plaza. She was very far back, so the guests disembarking from the procession of smart sedans were little more than indistinguishable ants. But at least she could see over the heads of most of the crowd and the massive screens set up on either side of the square showed a view of the red carpeted aisle inside the cathedral.
A rather large family had wedged themselves into the same front doorway. The law firm’s doors were firmly shut, though from the sounds of partying above the staff were enjoying their vantage point.
Divorce lawyers, Phoenix noted wryly, checking out the brass plate above her head.
She looked over the family crammed in beside her and did a quick head count. Five children, varying in age from teens to a babe in arms. Wow. And they’d still managed to make space for her. They’d come prepared too, with picnic basket, camera and binoculars.
A cheer rose up through the crowd, spreading like a Mexican Wave at a soccer match. In the distance, yet another elegant black luxury car pulled up before the cathedral, this one with its top down. It was like a Bentley convention had hit town today.
A uniformed figure emerged from the vehicle and her heart knocked against her ribs. A fair head caught the sunlight as Max climbed the stairs and paused at the elaborate cast bronze doors of the cathedral.
The watching TV cameras zoomed in and Max’s face appeared on the massive screens positioned on either side of the plaza. He waved and the crowd went wild, the cheers reaching a deafening crescendo.
A tug began low in Phoenix’s stomach and she found herself unable to breathe. On the screens, Max grinned, the dimples appearing in his cheeks.
“He’s so nice,” the mother with the infant in her arms beside her yelled over the noise of the crowd.
Phoenix nodded. Nice didn’t even begin to cover it.
Across the plaza, Max turned and disappeared into the cathedral and the noise abated. Phoenix knew enough of the coronation ceremony to know there’d be music playing in the cathedral right now but she was too far away from the speakers to hear a thing.
“So where are you from?” the woman asked. The infant in her arms wriggled, bored now that the excitement levels around her had dropped.
“America,” Phoenix answered.
“That’s a long way to come for the coronation.”
Phoenix shook her head. “I was passing through and this seemed like fun.”
“It is! We haven’t had this much fun in years. The previous coronation was down in Neustadt and I was too young to remember the last royal wedding.”
“I hear that didn’t end so well.”
The other woman shifted the fractious infant to her other hip. “They seemed happy and really that’s all that counts, isn’t it? Who am I to judge? I wasn’t exactly a saint when I married Markus and he was already divorced with kids.” She nodded at the teenagers in animated conversation with their dad on the other side of the doorway. That explained the passel of children.
The woman shrugged. “We all have baggage and none of us are perfect.”
Phoenix nodded.
The infant tried to grab at her hair, and the mother shifted her to her other hip. “Sheesh, but I swear you keep getting heavier,” she said to her baby.
The child laughed.
Phoenix couldn’t help but smile back at the cheeky face. “I’ll hold her a while, if you want.” Now why the hell had she offered that?
The woman’s smile was worth it, though. “You don’t mind? Just for a moment?”
“No problem.” Phoenix hoped she sounded surer than she felt. But really it wasn’t a problem. The child settled on her hip, not quite so bored now that she had a different grown up to investigate. She wove chubby fingers into Phoenix’s hair and Phoenix smiled. “It must have been a big adjustment marrying a man with children.” Almost as big an adjustment as marrying a man with an entire nation to care for.
The woman shrugged but her dark eyes shone. “It’s all worth it when you find the one you want to be with for the rest of your life. Sometimes we have to take the duty along with the desire.”
She caught her husband’s eye and he smiled back at her. Phoenix’s heart constricted. That was how her parents used to look at each other. With stars in their eyes.
Had she ever looked at Max like that?
Yes, on their first night together in Vegas. The night of their first date, first kiss, first wedding. First time they’d made love. And boy was that a memory worth having!
So why had she been fighting it ever since? That day and night she’d spent with Max she’d felt as though anything was possible. Even a home and a family. Together, they could have taken on the world. And they’d planned to.
She sighed. Until she’d woken with no memory and all her old fears.
“So do you have a man waiting for you somewhere?” The woman asked.
Phoenix shook her head. “I did. A really incredible man. But I blew it.” Twice.
“If it’s meant to be, then Destiny will take care of it.”
Phoenix rolled her eyes. “What is it with the people of Westerwald and their belief in destiny?” And their faith in Happy Ever Afters.
She’d never believed in the former and she’d given up on the latter. She wouldn’t be at all surprised if Destiny gave her a great big kick in the ass for screwing this one up.
“Things always seem to work out for the best. Like with the Arch Duke.” The woman leaned closer, dropping her voice. “I know I probably shouldn’t say this but I’m so glad it’s Maximilian taking over from his father rather than Prince Fredrik.”
“Why’s that?” Phoenix asked.
“Fredrik seems like a decent enough guy but he’s so stiff and formal. We’re an easy-going people and we’ve had enough of stiff and formal. We need a bit of fun and lightness. Fresh blood, so to speak.” The woman’s brow wrinkled. “Though of course it’s the old blood, because that was what the fuss was all about, but you know what I mean.”
Phoenix nodded.
“And maybe we’ll have another royal wedding soon and we can forget all the unpleasantness of the past. I wonder if we’ll see her? She must be inside there somewhere.”
Fear froze Phoenix’s heart. “Who?”
“The waitress Maximilian’s been dating. But if you haven’t been here long, maybe you haven’t heard?”
“Princes don’t marry waitresses.”
The child in her arms laughed. She was getting heavier by the moment, but it was a pleasant kind of weight. A pleasant kind of responsibility.
“Why not? Legend has it that the story of Cinderella originated right here in Waldburg. Why shouldn’t it happen again?”
Because … Phoenix paused. She’d had a hundred and one reasons why not when she’d fled from Waldburg. None of them really seemed to matter. They’d all been excuses, really, not reasons.
“Thanks for holding her.” The mother reached out her hands for her daughter. With a toothless smile that wrenched Phoenix’s already overworked heart, the baby looked up at her mother, arms outstretched.
“It was my pleasure. What’s her name?”
“Georgiana.” Misunderstanding the look
on Phoenix’s face, she added defensively, “It’s a very popular name here in Westerwald. It was the name of a legendary sorceress who cast a magic spell on the royal family some three hundred years ago.”
“I’ve heard the story,” Phoenix said, her voice dry. Max had clearly left out some of the more interesting details.
The woman held out her hand. “I’m Katherine.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Phoenix smiled as she shook Katherine’s hand. “You won’t believe this, but my name’s Georgiana too. I was named after my grandmother.”
The grandmother who’d kicked her mother out when she’d fallen pregnant out of wedlock. Her mother had always said Phoenix was the baby born out of the ashes of her old life.
She wiped away another tear. What was it with these tears? It was almost as if once they got started, they wouldn’t stop.
They watched as the coronation ceremony played out on the big screens like a silent movie. Phoenix wondered how Max was feeling. He certainly didn’t look like someone with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Nor did he look like a man grieving for his wayward wife. He looked … determined.
The impulsive young man she’d married in Vegas was gone. In his place stood a finer man. If she’d loved him in Vegas, it had nothing on this feeling swelling inside her now.
My husband. The words no longer sounded alien.
The archbishop placed the crown on Max’s bowed head, and they all cheered their support, as Markus popped open a bottle of champagne.
“Would you like some?” He offered Phoenix a plastic picnic cup full of bubbling gold.
She laughed. “Why not?” She’d already done the worst she could do and married then lost the love of her life. What harm could a few sips of champagne do?
Max stepped out of the cathedral into the brilliant sunshine and looked out over the crowd, thousands of faces turned expectantly toward him. The gem-encrusted crown weighed heavy on his head and he had to lift his chin high to keep it balanced.
In the wake of the pealing cathedral bells, the hush that fell over the square was eerie. Even eerier was the incomprehensible feeling that Phoenix was out there in the crowd.
