by W.J. May
Chapter 6
Sarah stumbled but quickly regained her balance. Stupid, big, fluffy wedding dress! An embarrassing trip down the stairs wasn’t the grand entrance she’d hoped for. If anyone noticed, she decided she’d just laugh it off as wedding-night jitters. She needed to pay attention, but focusing on her footsteps seemed impossible when nothing but escape ran through her mind.
“Shall I assist you, Your Majesty?” A soldier appeared at her side, his arm proffered.
She scowled at him, lest he disclose her faux pas to everyone watching. “I’m fine, thanks.” Why’d hubby have to go and send a multitude of armed guards as escorts to the after-party? Now I’ll just have to lose them once I’m in the reception hall. Wait…hubby? Sarah still couldn’t get over the fact that she was married to someone who wouldn’t look out of place on the cover of a romance novel. She shook her head at her temporary lapse in judgment. But what a kisser!
She entered the great hall, which was filled with well-dressed ladies in silks and satins, whirling across the floor in the arms of gentlemen garbed in rich velvets and brocades. Laughter and chatter echoed through the room as her subjects drank to the new queen’s good health from brown-colored mugs. A troupe of musicians with recorders, trumpets, and flutes played a sprightly dance tune, while their whistles, bells, and drums kept the beat. She wondered if the DJ would take requests, but she highly doubted it.
Victor smiled, looping his arm in hers. “I see I’m just in time to escort my lovely bride.” His eyes glazed over, and she knew he meant every word. Against her will, Sarah felt her cheeks burning.
She knew it was cliché, but she felt exactly like Cinderella at the ball. Maybe she’d watched one too many Disney movies, but she had to keep reminding herself that it was all an act on both their parts. All she wanted out of their “blessed union” was the ring, and all he wanted was to piss off his alleged new father-in-law. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel impressed. Nobody had ever given her such a celebration or that much attention before.
A bald man in short red pants blew a trumpet blast. “Noblemen and women, commoners, and all other parties, bow down before our glorious monarchs, protectors and defenders of the realm, his Royal Majesty King Victor and her Highness Queen Gloria.”
In one smooth movement, the crowd formed a corridor, bowing deeply as the royal couple stepped into their midst.
Victor held Sarah’s trembling hand high as they made their way through the parted sea of people. “My bride!” He inclined his head, a broad grin playing on his lips, his eyes shining with pride.
