Crown of Solana

by Susan Sheehey

  “Stefano doesn’t believe he’ll be bothering us anymore.”

  “How can he possibly know that without finding him?”

  “Because he found a note. On a cocktail napkin.”

  She raised her eyebrows, and shook her head. No doubt now. Definitely Vasco. “And?”

  “Chironex, I’m out.”

  Chironex. The first mission, where they’d left Vasco behind. “What is a chironex?”

  “A sea wasp. The box jellyfish, most deadly creature in the sea.”

  Gemma sighed, more than little irritated. “So, that’s it?”

  André shrugged. “The mission was successful. They went to kill or capture Lozano. The head of the snake is dead.”

  He reached over to the fruit plate and grabbed a strawberry. He brought it up to her lips and smiled.

  She looked into his eyes, the mocha color not clouded with anxiety or panic anymore. This is André at peace. If only I could be that calm. She chalked it up to her decades of waiting for the bottom to drop out. Because it always did.

  Gemma bit into the strawberry, all the way to his fingertips. The sweetness enveloped her senses. Looking through the thin canopy overhead as she leaned back, the stars twinkled across the pink and yellow streaks in the sky. With a deep breath, she consumed the sweet and fresh scent from the lagoon, the waterfall sounds more soothing than she anticipated. Just as soothing as the sounds of the ranch used to be. “The head of the snake is dead, his youngest son in captivity, and probably will never walk again. Which leaves only his eldest son left unaccounted for.”

  “Known to authorities as the least threatening of the Lozanos.”

  “What did your sister say?” After all, she’d been the one detained by Ricardo Lozano when she escaped Solana. She had the most vested in his capture.

  “She said now we can all move forward. There’s no more time bomb waiting to explode while we negotiate a new defense agreement.”

  “We?”

  He smiled. “This has always been a family affair. We’d like it to continue that way.”

  “We all know how important family is to you.”

  “It is. And it’s taken a beating over the years, some more than others. Much more recently.”

  “But not for long.”

  He shook his head, his gaze focused solely on her. Her insides warmed and fluttered. She leaned forward and kissed his lips. Soft, sweet, and salty. Still like kissing the ocean.

  He suckled her top lip as he pulled away. Then he reached over to the tray and grabbed a covered silver platter, no bigger than a salad plate. “Ready for dessert?”

  “I’ve always been a fan of dessert before dinner.”

  He grinned. With a deep, shaky breath, he lifted the lid.

  A gold plate covered with red and white flower petals stared back at her, with something insanely glittery in the center. Her jaw dropped.

  A single round diamond dazzled from inside a circle of Solana’s ammephire stones. They wrapped around the center gem like a rose bloom, blossoming at the first touch of light. The center diamond was the size of her pinkie nail, not too large or overbearing on her hand. Just the way she never imagined a ring could look. Each stone shimmered at different angles, more breath-stealing than the next.

  “Marry me, Gemma.” André murmured the words more sweetly than she’d ever heard. “Marry the man who loves you most. I promise to make you happy and give you the life you’ve always wanted.”

  She swallowed her astonishment. The life she wanted was much simpler than the life he’d lived. She didn’t care about his millions, his palaces, or the extravagances that came with royalty. But there was something she wanted from him more than anything else. That only he could give her. “I want no more lies, no more secrets, and no more gambling with lives. I demand a lifetime of spectacular fights, amazing make-up sex, and casual family dinners.”

  With every word, his worried gaze turned into a smile until her knees shook from the smoldering grin on his perfectly shaven face. “I can do that.”

  “You’re damn right you will.” She grinned and couldn’t hold back the joy in her heart. She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him into her. Their mouths crashed together, searing the love in her heart into permanence. Their tongues danced, the sparkling cranberry cider still bubbly on her lips and no less sweet. He grabbed the ring from the center of the platter and slipped it on her right ring finger. Her left was still in the splint. But she’d proudly wear this rock anywhere.

  “Your hand will be back to normal in no time.” He carefully kissed her knuckles up to her wrist. “Ready for even bigger jewels.”

  “I don’t want bigger jewels.” She kissed him again, finding it impossible to hold back her smile. “But this means you have something important to decide with Alanna.”

  André brushed some of her hair back, studying her face with an awe that made her weightless. “I want you by my side. Crown or no crown.”

  “If you were to stay a prince, what would that make me?”

  “Mine.” He smiled. “To the world, Princess Gemma. But the former is far more important.”

  She placed her hand over his heart. “Whatever you both decide, I’m with you. Crown or no crown.” Though deep down, the thought of the first frightened her. But as long as he was beside her, she’d figure it out.

  André covered her hand with his own. “To hear you say that brings the greatest joy I’ve ever felt.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded envelope. He handed it to her.

  “What’s this?”

  “Open it.”

  With the Peralta family royal crest inscribed at the top, a simple, typed letter read:

  I hereby decree on this date and forever more André Miguel Peralta, first son of Rodrigo Alfonso Peralta and Esperanza Peralta Domingo, is no longer exiled. He may resume his official royal duties, and return to Solana as he desires, with the love and grace of his people.

  Gemma gasped to herself. Tears welled behind her eyes. For eight years, André couldn’t return home or see his family. The agony that had caused must have been too great to bear. He was finally home for good. “You’ve been living here for several weeks. But now it’s official.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted higher. “Do you know what this means?”

  She shook her head. “You’re officially eligible to ascend the throne? No. Wait…who signed this decree?”

  André’s smile widened.

  One Month Later

  OUTSIDE THE SOLANIAN CATHEDRAL, THOUSANDS of citizens cheered over the continuous bells ringing across the treetops, easily heard from inside the expansive rotunda. From the balcony over the twenty-foot double doors, the choir’s angelic voices rose above the din, echoing throughout the cathedral in heavenly resonance. Tenors, baritones, and sopranos joined together in reverent song with the orchestra below, I Vow to Thee My Country sung to Gustov Holst’s Jupiter Symphony.

  André stood at the front in full royal regalia. Black uniform with royal blue sash across his breast indicating the Order of the Hawk, a gold and silver chain collar of the Order of Gallant, silver stars and medallions from other honors, and the ceremonial sword at his side. Beside him stood the Archbishop in a gold robe and headdress.

  More than a five-hundred people listened to the music, all their faces alight with the promise of a new era on Solana. No more turmoil, chaos, or torment.

  The promise of peace.

  Gemma’s proud smile beamed at him from the royal box, in a simple wreath tiara. Her gown was a vision of pearl, jewel-encrusted marvel to her waist with an off-the-shoulder boat neckline, then smooth coral satin to the floor. A silver-star brooch clipped over her heart of the Order of Gallant, for her distinguished service to the monarchy. Well earned.

  Standing next to her was Flynn, in a black tux wearing his silver star of the Order of Gallant for saving Alanna. Also well earned. They both wore the new royal insignia with surprising ease.

  André
expected to be nervous, and his heart jacked to the max. But he was calm. And unspeakably proud.

  In the front row stood Prime Minister Barilla and more than thirty heads of state from around the world. Behind them were the members of parliament, including Mathis Arias. All with equal status in the cathedral, and over the last month more supportive of his and Alanna’s leadership.

  The music swelled to a crescendo, and everyone turned to the back of the church, where Princess Alanna approached. A golden dress with cream over-robe never draped a more stunning monarch. A collective hush fell over the crowd. The fleur de lis filigree and embroidery across the fabric dazzled upon her confident steps down the scarlet runner. Her beautiful eyes sparkled with humility, so much like their mother’s. Alanna’s abundant hair was braided along the sides, and then curled down her neck.

  Tears stung André’s eyes. He blinked them away.

  Her twelve-foot train was guided by four handmaidens, selected by Alanna herself. Daughters of victims from the invasion. All wore ice-blue gowns with white sashes.

  Luna de Azul proudly adorned the queen’s neck, the family jewels safe where they belonged.

  Alanna was all grown up.

  With each of her steps, he remembered the small girl who loved dancing in the palace hallways. The tiny sister who tagged along after him and Tulio through the gardens, insisting on crashing their games of tag and fútbol. Who sat at the foot of their father’s throne braiding her dolls’ hair. Who ran to their mother for lipstick, so she could leave a kiss mark on each teacup before royal dinners.

  Tears pricked his eyes again. Keep it together. We have a whole hour go.

  Alanna climbed the few steps to the altar, her heart hammering within her ribcage. At least I made it down the runner without tripping. The gown was heavier than she expected dragging it down the cathedral’s long aisle.

  Her heart swelled with the choir’s overwhelming voices, until the music finally ended. The light in the cathedral was so brilliant, it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

  The archbishop held his hand above her head. Then he recited the ascension prayer, the same prayer given over all rulers of Solana’s coronation throughout history. Given over her father. She closed her eyes and breathed in the incense, a unique blend of rose and frankincense, used only for such rare and holy traditions. The scent collided with the gardenias in the bouquets throughout the church. The same scent of her family’s heritage.

  When the prayer was finished, she bowed her head. Then André held out his hand and gave a soft smile. He escorted her the final few steps to the gemstone-covered silver throne, carried in from the palace for the coronation. The same throne gifted to the first queen of Solana, Elise, by her half-aunt, Queen Victoria of England. The diamonds and sapphires imbedded in the scrollwork head and arms glittered under the spotlights. She turned and sat on the royal blue cushion with silver fringe, an opulent perch. Her handmaidens fanned the long train away from her feet.

  André kissed her hand and stepped back off the altar. The rest was for Alanna alone.

  All the attendees in the assembly made her heart skip. Deep breaths helped calm her a little, but sitting in the same throne as her father, taking in the same sight of her people, all nearly made her cry. But now was not the time to lose it.

  Now was the time to show strength, humility, and poise.

  The archbishop anointed the royal scepter and orb with holy water, and handed them to her. The orb in her left palm, the scepter in her right. Both equally heavy, indicative of the great weight and responsibility of her obligation to her people. To God.

  The holy man raised his arms to the light. “I here present unto you Queen Alanna, your undoubted Sovereign. All who come this day to pledge homage and service, your queen supreme.”

  Throughout the rotunda echoed God save the queen, three times echoing in angelic song.

  Alanna breathed deeply and lifted her face to the balcony. “I solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of Solana according to our laws and customs. I will maintain the execution of law and justice in all judgments for the mercy of my citizens. I will do all in my power to preserve the government and traditions of our country as by law. I will be the light, the guide, the mother, and defender of my people. All this I promise. So help me God.”

  With a final blessing and holy water anointed on the crown, the archbishop raised it over Alanna’s head.

  The diamond and ammephire gems glittered in the unending light bouncing off the cathedral walls. All the silver, gold, and gems encircling the crown lowered and rested firmly on her head. The inner velvet padding displaced only a small amount of its incredible weight. Her dark curls had been braided into place to help hold the band in place.

  The orchestra began a rendition of William Walton’s Crown Imperial, the trumpets and violins reverberating in her chest.

  As the last remaining member of the royal family, André had the first privilege and honor of pledging his fealty to the new queen. He rose the steps to the altar once more and dropped to one knee at Alanna’s feet.

  The queen’s feet.

  She’d never seen so much pride on her brother’s face, tinged in the tears lining his eyes. Don’t lose it, André. Help me out here.

  “I pledge my honor, my life, and my allegiance to you, Queen Alanna. God save the queen.”

  “Thank you,” she replied.

  He kissed her knuckles, and threw her a wink.

  She smiled to keep from chuckling.

  He rose and retreated to the side, never showing his back to the new monarch, per custom.

  With a glance at the royal box, Alanna willed her love across the stone floor to Flynn, who grinned, holding his hand over his heart.

  When the ceremony finished, the royal scepter and orb were safely poised on the altar. Alanna led the way down the aisle, followed by André, and the Archbishop. Beyond the double doors waited the massive crowd outside, cheering and waving the blue and gold Solanian flag, greeting their queen for the first time.

  The sunlight washed over her face and settled her racing heart. The people smiled and threw flowers at her feet. Glimmers from the crown on her head danced off the eyes of those closest to her.

  A million cameras flashed in the distance and her joyous face displayed across the large screens along the royal park, constructed especially for the coronation.

  She moved down the steps with the help of her handmaidens to the awaiting white carriage, pulled by four palomino horses. A dozen royal guardsmen surrounded the carriage. André and Flynn stepped forward to help her climb inside, careful of the yards of fabric from her train. When settled, Flynn climbed the steps and into the carriage.

  “Hi there, gorgeous.” He winked.

  She grinned, and the crowd cheered louder. More cameras flashed, and her large face was even brighter on all the screens around them.

  “You sure you’re ready for this?” she asked him.

  Flynn settled in beside her and kissed inside her palm. “Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

  “Good answer.”

  “May I be the first to kiss the queen?”

  The carriage door closed, specially made with bulletproof glass, and the pair rolled off on their procession to the Royal Square, then to the palace for the grand reception.

  André turned and stared at Gemma. From the top of the cathedral steps, her coral gown glittered. Her smile match the sparkles. But nothing sparkled in the sunlight more than the majestic engagement ring on her left finger. Behind her was Stefano in his royal guardsman uniform, with additional medals of honor on his breast. Seven other guards rounded up behind them. Stefano escorted Gemma down the stairs, to where André met her with a kiss on her knuckles. And a silent prayer of thanks to God that she said yes.

  More cameras flashed, and cheers arose. Gemma laughed.

  Her skin was flawless. All of the bruising and cuts had healed. She may have said she doubted her abilities to fulfill the princess image, but she’d al
ready mastered it, just by being herself.

  “You clean up nicely when you stay away from coffee,” she teased.

  He chuckled.

  “Your sash reminds me of our first night here.”

  Remembering the image of a naked Gemma wearing only his sash while standing in his royal chambers made his manhood twitch. He hoped the high-definition cameras around them wouldn’t catch his blush. “I’d be happy to see a replay when we get back to the palace.”

  A black, Rolls Royce limo rolled to the curb, and Stefano opened the door. Gemma climbed inside first, and André smiled at the bluebonnet-colored fabric down the back of her dress, layered within the coral lace. A tribute to the Texas flower she loved.

  Beaming with pride, he waved to the crowd, and then climbed inside. The Rolls pulled away and slowly proceeded through the streets toward the palace. People waved and cheered along the curbs the entire drive. Between the blue and gold Solanian flags and banners, cameras flashed and every move they made was on at least a dozen video cameras. But this was a day for the people. They could record all they wanted.

  “Still wish we could have used an open-air vehicle. Like the English royal wedding.” André waved at another person holding their toddler-daughter. The smiles were so genuine, the pride so fulfilling.

  “We all know what happened to JFK.” Stefano checked his watch. “Security is still top priority. The non-tinted windows should be enough for the people to see you.”

  “Don’t think it would’ve mattered.” Gemma glanced out the other window. “There’s more snipers on these rooftops guarding your handsome royal ass to make a marine base orgasmic. Not to mention the drones high in the sky.”

  “Ricardo Lozano is still out there.” Stefano adjusted his coat. “No one knows where he is or what his motives are right now. We have to play it safe.”

  “Enough security talk.” André gripped Gemma’s hand and kissed her wrist. The gesture would never get old. He stared at Stefano. “Have you considered my offer?”

  Stefano held back a smile, but his lips twitched. “It was quite generous.”