Page 87 of Coronation
“There is some gray area. In the law,” he tells me calmly. “It specifically states that ananointedmonarch cannot marry a non-citizen without parliamentary approval. In addition, I do believe we are in a strong position with the public at the moment. You are very well-liked, and I am more tolerated than I have ever been, by association.” His lips twitch, but I’m not smiling.
“People don’t know you, because you haven’t let them.” I reach out to take his hand, my brand-new engagement ring sparkling between us.
Ben’s expression softens. “Regardless. We have a very small window in which to ask forgiveness, instead of permission. None of this is ideal, but I’m afraid the alternative could mean waiting for quite a while. Our next national election isn’t for two years, and the current majority party leader is relatively anti-monarchy. He is unlikely to approve of any requests I putbefore him on principle, and if he’s reelected, it could be even longer. We also need to consider that, should our child be born out of wedlock, it would greatly complicate the matter of succession, and inevitably mean further appeals to Parliament.”
I let out a weak laugh. “There is a lot more to consider than what birthing class to take, huh?”
“I’m afraid so.” Ben grimaces apologetically, squeezing my hand. “If you’d rather wait, we can begin the citizenship process immediately, but it may very well be slower than waiting for Parliament.”
“So, when you say anointed king, that means… that means your coronation,” I clarify, my pulse moving a little faster as he nods, obviously apprehensive.
One week.He means we have one week to get married or possibly be forced to wait years. Should I be worried right now? Or feeling trapped? I’m not. I’m hardly without options here, and the one that actually makes me happy is the most insane, impulsive thing I’ve ever done.Includingthat time I hooked up with a king at a rich-people sex party.
“Okay,” I agree, my voice weak with disbelief. It seems insane that I’m agreeing to such an enormous thing with only sixty seconds of deliberation. I’ve always followed my heart, though. Why would I ignore it now, when it’s all but screaming at me?
Ben blinks, obviously as stunned by my agreement as I am. “Okay?”
My head bobs up and down, tears blurring the corners of my vision yet again. “Let’s do it. Let’s get married this week.”
A slow, ecstatic smile spreads over his face, and—god—I can’t believe how much I want to marry him. “Tonight.”
An incredulous laugh bursts from between my lips. “Tonight?”
“We’ll need time before the coronation to get thingssettled with Parliament and get you up to speed on the ceremony. There will also need to be a public announcement, that I’m sure will be its own ordeal,” Ben explains calmly, the grin barely slipping from his face as he does. “It’s a lot, I know, but?—”
“Okay.” I shake my head, a little dizzy from the twists and turns this conversation has taken. “Tonight it is.”
Myverysoon-to-be husband stares back at me, letting out an incredulous laugh of his own. “It’s not just because of the baby, right?” He’s teasing, but there is a flicker of something behind his eyes that tells me the question isn’t totally without reason.
“No,” I tell him simply. “It’s because I love their father.”
Thirty-Seven
Benedict
My first wedding was an affair of state.
In attendance were foreign dignitaries from around the world, and every living member of the royal family. We’d posed for pictures, sliced an eight-layer cake, and a famous rock band performed at the reception. Preparations took months, and when the time came, I’d felt nothing but hollow dread and resignation.
Now, with only minutes to go before I marry a second time, memories of that day feel closer to the hazy recollections of a fever dream, rather than actual events that I participated in. At that point in my life, agreeing to the arrangement felt like the right thing to do. I still wanted to measure up then, to be the man everyone expected me to be.
Marrying Zelda is an act of defiance against those expectations.
I stand in the doorway to the little church, watching my harassed-looking secretary light candles and set out vases of white lilies amidst the flickering tapers. It’s a modestarrangement, hastily thrown together at my behest, and yet it also feels so very right.
Tomorrow, we’ll step together into the light and allow the cards to fall where they may. The most important thing will already be done, though. Zelda will be my wife, and I feel the weight of the vows I will make tonight in a way I didn’t when I married Julia. The sense of duty I feel isn’t to an institution, it’s to a person—to two people.My family.
“Sir.” The voice of Harrold, my private secretary, has me turning to face the man, who wipes his palms on the sides of his pants. “Everything is arranged as you requested it. Is there,ah, anyone you’d like to notify?” There’s a hysterical edge to the question, a note of pleading which makes it clear the man isn’t at all sure the order for him to remain silent about what transpired tonight is something he ought to follow.
“You’re free to go.”
Panic flares in Harrold’s eyes. “If I may, sir. All of this is quite hasty and perhaps?—”
My irritation mounts. “There are a grand total of four people who are aware this marriage is taking place, apart from myself and Zelda. Two of them are my brothers, and one is the priest, whom I have promised a new roof for his parish in exchange for his temporary discretion. Rest assured, if news of this reaches anyone before I’m ready, I will know exactly where the story originated.”
Lips pressed into a flat line, he hurries off toward the car parked at the side of the church. The door has only just closed behind him when headlights flood the road, and the crunching of gravel signals another vehicle approaching.
My heart is in my throat as I turn, watching as one of the royal fleet comes into view and slows to a stop right before the church. I don’t give the driver a chance to get out. In seconds, I’m striding toward the back door, and my heart is in my throat as I grasp the handle, pulling it open.
