by Ember Casey
She smiles up at me, the worry leaving her eyes.
I bend down and kiss her. “Now let’s get back to the room and do it one last time as sinful, unmarried folks.”
She laughs, but she doesn’t object when I grab her hand and practically run the rest of the way back to her suite.
We make love twice before finally collapsing from exhaustion, though I have no idea where we find the energy. I only know that one minute she’s in my arms, recovering from some fucking amazing sex, and the next there’s a loud pounding in my head.
I sit up. Sophia does, too, cursing under her breath as she tries to untangle herself from the sheets.
There’s sunlight streaming in through the windows. The pounding sounds again. It’s morning. And someone is at the door.
Muttering a few curses, I climb out of bed and grab a robe. I tie it around myself and stumble my way to the door to the suite.
There’s a whole army of people outside. Seriously—at least half a dozen of them, looking at me expectantly.
“What the hell’s going on?” I ask groggily.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” says the man at the front, bowing. “We’re here to prepare you and Her Highness for the wedding.”
Now that I’m a little more awake, I notice they’re all carrying things—clothes, hair-styling tools, other odds and ends—and everything clicks into place.
That’s right. We’re getting married today.
I grin, stepping aside for them. “Come in.”
About half of the group—all women—come inside. The men stay in the hallway.
“If it pleases you, Your Highness,” says the man who spoke before, “we’ve set up a room in another wing for you. So you and Her Highness won’t see each other before the wedding, per tradition.”
I guess that makes sense. Even if Sophia and I are already married, we might as well follow tradition. I glance back toward the bedroom and notice the maids have already barricaded themselves in the room. I attempt to go back—I should at least say goodbye to Sophia—but the man stops me.
“Please, Your Highness. Time is tight as it is. Come with us.”
I’m about to go anyway, but one of the maids gives me a stern look and shuts the bedroom door. Apparently these people mean business.
I let the team of men lead me to another suite. I’m instructed to shower, and I do, quickly. When I emerge from the bathroom, they’ve got a whole thing set up—one of them has a bunch of hair and trimming tools spread on the vanity, another is polishing my wedding shoes, another is carefully removing my stiff wedding suit from a garment bag made of silk. I stand there in my towel, unsure of what to do.
“This way,” says the only one who’s talked to me this entire time. He practically shoves me into the huge walk-in closet. “Your undergarments are there.”
I didn’t realize I’d have special undergarments for my big day. I stare at all the pieces, wondering what I did to deserve this, but even complicated underpants can’t shake me today. Sophia and I are getting married again. With a grin, I grab all the pieces and figure out how to get into them.
I’m still grinning when I emerge from the closet, but none of the men even glance my way. Two of them are still hard at their preparations, but the other four are gathered around the hanging garment bag, muttering amongst themselves.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
They glance my way, falling silent.
I stride over to them, pushing through so I can see what they’re all muttering about. Did something happen to my wedding suit? Not that I’d really complain…
My wedding suit looks fine, though. Or at least as fine as that stiff, ugly thing ever did. But there’s something pinned to the front—a letter.
I lean closer, peering at the words:
She doesn’t deserve you. No one deserves you but me.
Sophia
Considering I’m already married, I can’t believe how nervous I am to walk down the aisle.
Not that it’s an aisle, exactly. We’re outside on the lawn behind the palace, which itself is large enough to hold most of the population of the capital city.
The crowd for this ceremony is so huge, things had to be changed around a bit from a normal wedding. My father and I will enter from the side now, and a small walkway has been roped off so we can walk between the small area at the front where our families are seated and the large gathering of people standing behind.
It’s almost like one of Pax’s rock concerts, I can’t help but think as I peer out of the small tent that’s been set up. Judging by all the crying women pushing at the rope barrier, it’s likely all the same people.
My father wheels himself beside me. “You look lovely, Daughter.”
I turn to him, forcing a smile. “Thank you, Father. And thank you for your announcement last night.”
“It seemed appropriate, given the sacrifices your husband has made.” He looks up at me with his steely, unreadable gaze. “I may have misjudged him.”
I can feel my expression soften, and I wish I had the time to tell my father exactly how he did misjudge Pax. How I did, too—at least at first.
“But I’ll not be changing my mind on the last of my requirements to recognize your marriage, Sophia. You’re young. And you can wait to bring forth a child into the world.”
“Ten years seems a bit excessive, Father—”
“This is neither the time nor place for discussion.” He arches a brow. “Nor will there be a discussion. I’ve made my decision. And you’ll abide by it.”
I lift my chin, turning from him. It isn’t so much that I’m in a hurry to have a child—it’s the mere notion that my father is trying to control me that bothers me most.
“The gathering is quite a lot more than expected. I understand our customs agents have been overwhelmed by all the visitors into the country the past few days.”
I’m sure that’s my father’s attempt at smoothing things over. That is how we deal with things in my family—at least where my father is concerned. If the topic becomes uncomfortable, he just changes the subject.
“But they are more than equipped to handle any security issues. We haven’t had a problem at any public gatherings in this country in almost a century.”
“Of course, Father—”
I’m interrupted by the sound of a scuffle at the opposite side of the tent.
“You can’t… Your Highness—”
“I’m not Your Highness yet.” Pax pushes his way around several of the attendants. “Sophia. King…Your Majesty.” He maneuvers his way over, even though every one of the ladies who have been helping me all morning try to stop him.
My father arches a brow at him. “It’s bad luck to see your bride before the wedding.”
“We’re already married,” he mutters, his eyes never leaving mine. “She’s here.”
“Who’s here?” I feel my brows draw together before my stomach twists itself into a knot. “That’s…impossible.”
My father looks up between the two of us. “I presume you’re speaking of your attacker?” He pauses for a moment. “I assure you, Patrick…Pax. Guns are forbidden among the general public in this country. And our security—”
“Your security…” He shakes his head, his mouth dropping open. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty. I realize it’s impolite, but there’s no time. We have to cancel this thing—”
“Nonsense.” My father gives him a stern look. “Half the Royal Guard are here, whether you can see them or not. And I can assure you, there will be no problems of any kind at this gathering. Anything untoward will be stopped before it begins.”
“You don’t know Abby,” Pax mutters under his breath.
“And you don’t know my Royal Guard.” My father gives him a steely glare. “Now, I suggest you take your place. The ceremony is about to begin, and I would prefer that I walk my daughter down the aisle of her wedding to actually meet her groom.”
“You’re…walking?”
I look down at my father. “Father, that isn’t necessary—”
“I have one chance, Sophia.” He looks up at me for a moment, and I swear I see his lips tick into the slightest of smiles. “Only one daughter to walk down the aisle of her wedding. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to give up that chance because of a little heart condition.”
“I…” Tears fill my eyes—I don’t even know what to say. I’ve wondered many times over the years if my father even realized he had a daughter. Of course I know my parents love me—it’s just that I’ve always felt like more of a nuisance to him than an actual child.
This time, he does smile, though it’s ever so small. “I trust that you’ll hold me up if I need it.”
“I…of course I will.” I press my lips together to hold back my tears.
Pax looks between the two of us, and I think I can almost see the shimmer of tears in his own eyes. “I’d better get out there.” He grins at me. “And you do look amazing—”
“Bad luck, Pax.” My father shakes his head, though he’s still got the same half-smile on his lips. “Very bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony.”
“And we’re still already married.” Pax winks at my father, before he turns to leave. I swear he almost skips out of the room, seeming to forget why he came here in the first place.
My father stands, lacing his arm through mine before he turns to me. “Are you ready?”
I nod, and the attendants pull open the flaps of the white tent before my father and I begin to make our way through the narrow walkway to the aisle between the small seating area.
All of Pax’s sisters are here, and all the members of his band. His mother smiles at me from the front, tears streaming down her face. My own mother sits on the aisle across from her, giving me a slight nod as our eyes meet.
I barely hear the music. As we draw closer to the front, my father clings tightly to my arm. It feels like every step for him is a battle, and I’m doing my best to keep him upright as I bear more and more of his weight.
We finally make it to the front, and he kisses me on the cheek before my mother stands and helps him to the seat beside her. I’m sure it isn’t what he planned—my father never wants to appear weak, particularly in front of his people—but my heart warms at knowing he wanted to actually be my father, at least for a few moments.
The ceremony begins, and because this isn’t a traditional wedding—we are actually already married, after all—we don’t have any bridesmaids or groomsmen. It seems just as well for me—Victoria would have been my first choice to stand beside me, but she’s been forbidden from getting out of bed. And Elle is consumed with caring for her child, just as she should be. Justine sits beside William behind our mother, and even though her twins aren’t due for another few months, she appears to be quite uncomfortable.
I turn and look up at Pax with a smile. He’s all I need.
The ceremony proceeds, and even though it’s really only all for show, my heart feels like it could burst with happiness. Having a traditional Montovian wedding ceremony might not have been at the top of my priority list, but the pride I feel at showing off my new husband to the world makes it all worthwhile.
And Pax can’t seem to stop grinning, either.
We’re nearly to the end—nearly to the part where the officiate proclaims us husband and wife—when there’s a sound from the audience.
I hadn’t noticed how quiet it had been before, but the crowd must have been hanging on our every word. But now, there’s a scuffle of some sort and I see a flash of something purple in the aisle near my brothers.
Things happen quickly after that. One of Pax’s bandmates—Charlie, I think, though it’s hard to tell from this far away—seems to fly from his chair, landing on top of the purple flash with a thud. There’s a muffled scream before the pair are surrounded by uniformed Royal Guardsmen.
Pax squeezes my hand, and I turn to look back at him for a moment.
The woman in purple is screaming, though it’s hard to make out what she’s saying. As she’s led away, she turns back to us. “She’ll never love you like I do, Pax. And I swear to God, I’ll prove it to you.”
One of the Guardsmen yanks her by the arm, and she’s taken away from the crowd.
“Charlie.” Pax calls over to the man as he tries to climb over the rest of his band to get back to his seat. “Get up here.”
Charlie frowns, giving Pax an almost sheepish look before he shakes his head.
“I mean it.” Pax looks over at me, and I give him a nod. I know things have been difficult between the two of them, and if this is what it takes to make things right between them—and to get his band back together—I want them to share the stage.
Charlie slowly makes his way to where we stand, and as soon as he’s close enough, Pax throws his arms around him. “I’ve got one thing left to do, but then I think we need to give these people a show, don’t you?”
Charlie presses his lips into a line before he slowly begins to smile, nodding at Pax. “Yeah. I think that would be great.”
Pax turns to me. “What do you say, Soph? Up for a duet today?”
“Not today and not ever.” I shake my head. “But I think we have a few lines left to say here…” I motion with my head at the officiate, who’s standing in front of us with his mouth hanging open.
“Oh yeah. I’ve got to say the words if I want to be an actual prince, right?” Pax grins at me. “I think my line is ‘I do.’” His smile widens. “I already did. And I do again. Today. Tomorrow. Forever.” He slides a ring onto my finger—the emerald and diamond ring that belonged to my father’s great-great-grandmother. The ring I’ve coveted my entire life. I don’t know when he got it—or how he knew which one to choose—but it’s the exact one for me.
I throw my arms around him, kissing him deeply. This might not have been a proper Montovian wedding, but it was perfect all the same.
I married the man of my dreams—again. And there’s nothing more perfect than that.
Pax
Well, I guess this is what happily ever after feels like.
It’s fucking awesome.
Sophia and I are married. I’m a prince. The band is back together. Abby has finally been apprehended and sent off to jail—and from what I’m told, she should be there for a very, very long time. Sophia and I are safe, but more importantly, we’re together. Forever.
And I’m finally starting to feel like part of the royal family. Sophia’s brothers still like to give me a hard time, but I can feel the affection in it now—even from Andrew and Nicholas. Apparently I’m officially a “decent guy” after donating one of my organs to their father.
As for the king himself, he’s slowly but surely coming around. I’m still not his favorite person, but I’m not his enemy anymore, either.
Which brings us to today. A very important day.
It’s been two weeks since the wedding. The king is moving around without a wheelchair now, though the queen still goes with him everywhere as if she’s afraid he might collapse again any minute. She’s by his side now, her arm looped through his.
In fact, the whole family is here—the king and queen, Sophia’s brothers and their respective spouses, even a number of the household staff, including the weasel-y Stephan. He still scowls at me all the time, but Sophia says that’s his normal expression. My mom and sisters are here, too—they’ll be heading home to the U.S. tomorrow, and I wanted them to be part of this before they leave.
I step forward. “I know you’re all wondering why I invited you here today,” I say. Yesterday, I sent everyone a special invitation, inviting them here to what the people here in the palace call the “Southeast Ballroom.” It’s one of the smaller ballrooms—much smaller than the one where the State Dinner was held—and the acoustics are amazing. The band and I have been practicing here all week.
“The guys and I wanted to perform a song we’ve been working on,” I continue, gesturing to my bandmates behind me. “I wrote it a
few weeks ago, but no one else has had a chance to hear it yet.”
I glance toward Sophia, who’s sitting just to the right of her father. She smiles encouragingly at me.
This is the song I wrote that day I took her father on that horseback ride. In the days since, I’ve tweaked and reworked it a little, and now it’s nearly perfect. I’m almost glad the king didn’t hear the earlier version—I hope this new version, with the full band here behind me, will blow him and the rest of them away. And I’m already having ideas about how we might grow this into Twisted Throne’s next album.
“This song is about the greatest thing that ever happened to me,” I say, my eyes never leaving my wife. “And a little about the beautiful place she calls home. It’s called ‘Royal Wonder’.”
I step back behind the mic, gesturing to Jameson. He knocks his sticks together—one, two, three—and then we play.
And it’s more magical than ever.
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Also by Ember Casey
The Cunningham Family Series
