Page 57 of Thrones We Steal

It’s almost time.

Behind the closed doors leading into the nave, the organ plays, but the music does little to calm my anxious heart or dry my sweaty palms. Beatrice steps from the shadows and gives me a perfunctory peck on the cheek. She looks gorgeous in her emerald dress. Every maid of honor in every royal wedding since Wesbourne’s founding has worn the national color. We can’t exactly break tradition now.

My father should be here, offering his steady strength as he leads me up the aisle. God, what I wouldn’t give for five minutes with him. Instead, I have to make that terrifyingly long journey by myself.

The door attendants swing the doors open, and the music shifts to “Prelude to the Te Deum.” Taking one shaky step after another, I begin my walk to the front. Has the aisle always been this long? The page boys follow with my train. The guests rise and gaze at me with smiles. If I block out everything else, I can almost imagine this is the wedding of my dreams.

Except the wrong man waits for me at the chancel.

When I reach the front, Henry turns to take my hand, and I see his face for the first time. He is breathtakingly handsome in his tuxedo and he’s looking at me strangely, like he doesn’t know what to say.

There’s a sharp twist in my gut as the knife that’s taken up residence there gives a lurch.

What am I doing here?

He squeezes my trembling hand. “You got this,” he whispers.

It has an unexpected stabilizing effect on me, and I realize I’m grateful I’m not doing this alone.

We face the front and read the Preface with the congregation. During the hymns, the Scripture reading, and the wedding address, my mind drifts. When it’s my turn to recite my vows, I’m surprised to hear myself speaking the words after the minister, promising to love Henry for as long as we both live.

Will God forgive my lie?

The rest of the ceremony commences, but I don’t hear what is read. I kneel to pray at the appropriate time, exchange the gold wedding rings, sign my name to the marriage certificate, and walk back down the aisle with Henry, but it holds as much meaning as brushing my teeth.

The only way to survive is to block it out.

The rain has stopped by the time we get outside, and the crowd goes wild as we step through the doors. We stand at the top of the steps for a few minutes so that everyone can get their pictures. My hand is wrapped in Henry’s, and I force my lips to curl into a smile. After all, I’m doing this for them, and they want a picture of a beaming princess on her wedding day.

No one cares if the princess doesn’t want to be there.

Something like a chant rises up from the crowd. “What are they saying?” I ask.

“They want us to kiss.” I can feel Henry’s eyes on me. “What do you think? Should we give them what they want?”

My smile falters, but I save it just in time. I don’t look at him. “Not on your life,” I say through my grin.

“Why not? Afraid you’d like it?”

“Actually, I’m confident I wouldn’t.”

“That’s not what your body said the other day,” he murmurs quietly.

That same body floods with heat. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“You forget, I am very familiar with the female body,” he says. “Besides, you owe it to the people. They came here to see you. The least you can do is give them what they want.”

That’s what I’m doing by posing for these insipid pictures and pretending to be a blushing bride. This conversation is making at least the blush authentic.

The crowd refuses to let up. If anything, they’re increasing their enthusiasm.

Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her!

Bloody hell. The last thing I want is a big scene. I dart a quick glance at Henry, which is the wrong thing to do, because my body begins its own chant. Damn that jawline of his.

Guilt kicks me in the stomach. Even if Beck isn’t watching the live broadcast, he will certainly see coverage later. I can’t do that to him.

I straighten my spine. “Not happening.”

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