Page 73 of Desperately Yours

“Then, Your Majesty, perhaps the blame should lie where it belongs and love should prevail.” Bishop leaned forward, ending his intervention with a bow to the king and queen.

A bow… a sign of devotion… What was that ritual Bishop taught me weeks ago?

The king took his wife’s hands, facing her. “She saved me, Mariah, when no one else could. You know how I cling totradition and yet, I find myself wavering. Is there another young woman in all the kingdom who has the strength, devotion, and fortitude that she does? I think not.” He motioned to Sadie against the wall, still clinging to Tauriq, even with her hands bound. “Your choice for our son was actively trying to murder me.”

“It’s not her fault!”

Oh my gosh, was that me? Did I really say that? What was I thinking? Worse, the words were still coming.

“She had no choice. If she didn’t do what they asked, they would have killed her fiancé.” I faced Fitz, my heart breaking at the thought. “I can’t imagine what I would do to keep him safe.” I clenched my teeth as I fought against the next words I knew I had to say. “Please, show her mercy.”

The king watched me carefully, obviously intrigued by what I’d said. “And she’s merciful as well. I misjudged you, Miss Caldwell. I do hope you forgive an old man his follies.” Without another word to me, he faced Sadie, still leaning heavily on Mariah. “You cannot stay in Nolcovia. Treason will not be ignored.” He held up a finger. “But we will arrange for a new home for both of you with our allies, under the condition that your apothecary will only be used to save and serve. Understood?”

A silent sob of relief shook Sadie as she nodded in agreement, still pressed against Tauriq as tight as she could be. As the king turned away from her, Sadie’s gaze fell on me. Tears rolled over her cheeks as her remorse burst from her chest. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“If there’s nothing else—” the king turned to his wife as if to call the whole evening to a close, but Fitz held up a hand to stop him.

“Not quite.” He shifted away from me, leaving me unsteady and unbalanced. Dropping to one knee, he reached for my hand.

Out of the corner of my eye, Bishop started snapping at Tom, the producer. He circled one finger around the other, signaling for the cameras to start rolling again.

“Speaking of tradition, Coco, if you’re willing…” Fitz took my hand in his. First, he touched it to his forehead. “Woman, you have captured my mind,” he brought our joined hands to his chest, “my heart,” and then his lips grazed over my knuckles in a tender kiss, “and soul.” I pressed my lips together as chills ran up my spine. The Devotion of the Soul, the most sacred ritual in Nolcovian tradition. Even his parents stood completely transfixed. Fitz tipped his head upward to face me, eyes full of pleading. “Tell me you’ll be mine forever? Promise me your heart for all time?”

Thoughts rushed through my mind, too rapid to fully congeal.

Was I ready for this?

Could I really be queen one day?

Could I make Nolcovia my home?

But louder than any thought was the love I felt for Fitz. There was no one else. No person had ever come close to what I felt for him. Maybe that’s why the next thought that popped into my mind made me want to laugh out loud.

Thank goodness for Bishop.

Because without him, I wouldn’t have known my role. The Devotion of the Soul after all could be accepted or rejected. That’s what he was waiting for, and Bishop was the one who taught me what to do.

Taking a step toward Fitz, I became all too aware of the cameras moving in for the final shot. I bent low, torn and trampled dress, cut over my eye, bruises up and down my arms and all over my body, and I pressed my lips against my prince’s.

The world faded back as Fitz rose and took me into his arms. Emotions swirled around us as the love that had grown since we were kids transformed into something deeper, stronger,unbreakable, and joyous. Cheers erupted around the room, nearly deafening, as others expressed their approval.

I couldn’t help but think of all the times I’d spent pretending to be a princess for parties back home. In fact, once upon a time, I fully believed that a princess was only as valuable as her crown. As my fingers touched Fitz’s face, I noted my charm bracelet. Still dangling from one of the chains was the wire bit that Fitz had snapped off the crown young Leila had given me before we fell into that sinkhole. Fitz told me afterward that he’d kept that crown with him at all times, even though it was crushed. It was all he had left of me.

That crown was worth very little by the world’s measure, but even the tiniest reminder on my bracelet meant more to me than if it were made of real silver and jewels. Because the crown represented who I’d become while I’d been in Nolcovia. I would have to rephrase my mantra. Because the crown meant nothing if the person wearing it couldn’t uphold the highest standards.

My happiness leaked out in laughter, making it so much harder to kiss my Crown Prince. He broke away, forehead against mine, smile plastered in place as if it might never fade again. “I told you,” he whispered, “for years, I predicted it.”

Somewhere behind us, Tom had taken on the role of host and was closing down the first season of the show, but I didn’t care about any of that. I crinkled my brow and shook my head, confused by Fitz’s words. “Told me what?”

“That you were a princess.” He stole a quick kiss. “And now, you will be, Princess Coco of Nolcovia.”

I shoved him like I had a thousand times, but this time he caught my hand and pulled me back to his lips, reminding me that while we would always be friends, love had become our new reality. He deepened the kiss, pulling me closer, speaking to me without words of the future we would make together.

Always and forever.

Prince Fitz and Princess Coco.

Bishop

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