Page 39 of Prince of the Northwest Forest
“You’re not military.” He coughs. “Ahem, I mean, Your Royal Highness, it is nevertheless not appropriate. Too aggressive. You don’t want to scare the girl.”
“Still. I feel naked without it.” The only time since the fae attack that I’ve felt comfortable enough to take it off in anyone else’s presence was at Justice’s apartment.
Don’t think about Justice.
Feder sighs and pretends to be interested in the view. “Fine. Just … okay. Fine.”
“I could wear my back scabbard,” I offer.
“Whatever,” Feder mutters.
Now it’s my turn to sigh. “I’ll remove it.” Unbuckling the scabbard at my waist, I set my sword down against a tree. “Happy?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” he says in a put-upon tone.
Getting married today is definitely a bad idea.
No. Stop thinking that way. Everyone gets cold feet on their wedding day. I’m here, and I agreed to do this—okay, I was told I had to do it, but I didn’t protest. I do what I’ve promised to do. This wedding is for the good of my realm. If I have to sacrifice my future happiness, so be it. Besides, maybe it won’t be that bad. Maybe Princess Eleanor and I will find we have things in common.
An image of Justice appears in my mind. But he’s just afriend. A commoner, human friend. Getting to know him will not save my realm from destruction.
“It’s time, Your Highness,” Risteárd says, his beaver tail thwapping on the forest floor.
Feder nods. “Except for the sullen look on your face, you look marvelous, Your Highness. Keep your chin up, and represent your realm.”
I swallow hard. Here we go. It’s time for me to get married.
I reach for my cloak.
“What the hell? Excuse me, Your Highness,” Feder says with infinite patience. “Why are you putting that on?”
“If you do wear it, Prince Kalle, you should pull your hood back,” Risteárd says. “Show your face.”
I glare at him.
“It’s your wedding day,” Feder says consolingly. “If you can’t show your face to your bride?—”
“Isn’t she going to be in a veil?”
They look at each other. “We are not sure, Your Highness. That would be traditional, but we have not received advice of what she is going to wear.”
My finger goes to the scar on my cheek. Spending so much time with Justice had made me forget about it. But now I have to face a host of strangers who will be staring.
I sigh. Then I drape the cloak across Feder’s back. “Fine. I will leave it behind.”
He nods solemnly, but I can tell he’s cheering inside. Damn fashionista deer.
Hazel and Martin, my ever-present company, join me as I walk from the staging area toward the amphitheater.
“Are you doing all right, Your Highness?” Hazel asks.
Swallowing hard, I nod and tug at the bottom of my vest.
“Don’t fidget,” Feder murmurs.
“I can’t help it,” I mutter back. I want to be my usual stoic self, but today … no.
Should I run away?
