Page 2 of Princess Bride Swap

He bowed in return. “And you. Allow me to introduce my mother. Countess Ludovica Traverso.” He gestured to the woman still standing behind him. She greeted them all with a regal politeness.

Herexpression was easy enough to read. Distrust written into every sideways look.

“The wedding will be held in the chapel at nine,” Lyon offered. “My staff is at your service, of course, so you may ready yourself in whatever ways you need.”

“I’m still not understanding thisprivateroyal wedding situation we find ourselves in,” the king blustered, as he was likely to bluster until the end of time.

The prince did not so much as even blink. Beau wasn’t sure he moved, exactly, but he gave the impression of being verytall, as though he were looking down at her father from a great distance.

She very much wanted to learn that trick.

“With the change in brides, we find ourselves in a delicate situation. I thought that was clear?” Lyon posed this as a kind of question.

The kind of question no one dared answer.

Father cleared his throat. Mother looked away. The countess studied Beau’s dress as though she were cataloging any wrinkle.

“We will reconvene then. Marco?” He gestured a staff member over.

And that was it. Beau was led away from her one and only meeting with the man she would marry in just a few short hours.

She felt the tickle of panic at the back of her throat but breathed through it. They both knew what they were getting themselves into, and that was all that mattered.

“She’s pretty.”

Crown Prince Lyon Traverso’s mother said this as if it were some kind ofshock. He glanced at the countess. “And?”

“You know as well as I do that the Rendalls keep her as far out of the public eye as they can. I expected...” Mother trailed off, likely because she knew whatever she’d been thinking was not appropriate to say, even just between the two of them.

And the truth was, Princess Beaugonia Rendallwaspretty. Not quite in the way her sister was. Princess Zia had been taller and more...effortlessly regal, it seemed to Lyon. Though he’d thought less of her looks and more about how she’d suited his purposes.

But Beaugonia had made a case thatshewould suit his purposes instead now that Zia was...well, it wasn’t clearwhathad happened there, but Lyon had heard rumors.

And as much as he needed heirs, they needed to be legitimate and his own. So a wife who understood that, agreed to that, was far more important than her appearance. As long as she understood her place, everything else was immaterial.

Beaugonia seemed to know her place.

But, he could admit because his mother had brought it up, Beaugoniawaspretty. Softer, smaller than her sister, and she held herself with a strange...reserve was the only word Lyon could come up with. A reserve that didn’t match the cutting quality to her eyes—an intriguing array of shades coming to some sort of hazel conclusion.

In the privacy of his own mind, he could admit that hewasa bit surprised as his mother had been. Maybe, without fully thinking about it, he’d expected exactly what his mother was getting at. A reason that the princess had been hidden away and Zia had been trotted out as the true royal.

“I do hope you know what you’re doing,” Mother said, moving about the room, the anxiety all but radiating off of her.

When was it not? Their position was precarious. Because he was not the son of a crown prince, or even the grandson of one.

Which came down the maternal side of things, and the kingdom of Divio hadconcernsabout what that would mean for their young leader, shoved into the princehood—the highest royal step here in the principality of Divio—after a series of unfortunate events.

But Lyon was ready. He knew how to be a leader, and he knew his family belonged on the throne, regardless of the whispers. His grandmother had raised him to believe that this would be his fate—because she had known her brothers and their progeny would not last long.

She had always said they’d been train wrecks from day one. Selfish, careless and ruled by wants over any sort of duty.

She had been right. After his cousin’s fiasco, there had been a vote to get rid of the monarchy altogether. It had not won, but it had beenclose. Any hint of scandal, and Lyon had no doubt Parliament would hold another one.

So all the training Grandmother had put him through had paid off thus far. He’d spent the past year, almost, trying to earn the trust of his country, with not a whiff of a demand for another vote.

Beau was the next step. A wife. Children—enough that there would be no question, no future concerns of who the next leader would be. Tradition. Respectability. Everything a citizen could want from their royal family.

Not onewhiffof the scandal the other princes had loved to traffic in.

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