Page 22 of Broken Kingdom

“But don’t start right away,” Nicky says, lifting a hand, her slim fingers spread wide. “Hold for a beat, then hold a beat longer than you think you should. Give everyone in the pews time to turn around, see you, and be knocked off their feet by that dress before you walk.”

“She should be wearing the dress now!” Jean-Paul shouts from the front by the pulpit and a bored-looking priest. “She needs practice. What if she trips and falls? What’s taking Duval so long?”

“She won’t trip, and Madame Duval said she needed an extra hour for a few final touches. Besides, we don’t want to risk the train getting dirty during rehearsal,” Nicky calls back. “You hired me to do a job, Jean-Paul. Let me do it.” Her smile returning, she adds in a softer voice, “That’s a good pause, now start down the aisle, but slowly, regally. Excellent,” she enthuses as I begin the long journey down to the front of the church. “You’re a princess who’s about to become this pack’s queen. And this is the first time most of them will see you. Make an impression. Show them you’re something special, a queen who won’t be rushed, a queen who holds her head up high and her shoulders back and has zero shame about how she came to be at this altar today.”

“And why should she have shame?” Jean-Paul asks as I draw closer. “Arranged marriages are the norm among elite shifter families. Common people marry for love or at the whim of fate. We marry for power. Isn’t that right, Juliet?”

“Shouldn’t the flower girl and Bethany be here, too?” I ask, answering his question with one of my own. “If you want this to go off without a hitch, shouldn’t we practice with a complete wedding party?”

He waves an annoyed hand, like he’s batting away a fly. “I’m not concerned. If the flower girl makes a mistake, it’s cute, and Bethany is a grown woman and raised as part of a royal family. I’m certain she can walk a straight line and stand sweetly on your side of the pulpit without any trouble. It’s more important that her dress fits. Madame Duval is doing final alterations on her gown, as well, but she and your dress should be here soon. You’ll have time to catch up before the ceremony. Though, fair warning, if either of you starts to boo-hoo back there, I’ve given the guards orders to separate you. I won’t have you saying your vows with a red, puffy face. This is a celebration, not a funeral.”

“I won’t be puffy or red.” I stop across from him in front of the altar, gifting him a tight smile that I hope hides the murder in my eyes.

I can’t wait to shift into my phoenix form and rain fire down on his pompous head. The priest may get caught in the crossfire, but there’s nothing I can do about that. Jean-Paul’s pack, at least, will have a chance to run out the double doors before the flames spread to the rest of the church.

If they stay and fight to save their sovereign, well…that’s their choice.

We should all have free will, and I mean to exercise mine to get my cousin and myself out of here without Jean-Paul’s ring on my finger.

After the rehearsal of the vows, during which I heroically manage not to vomit again, I’m returned to the bridal suite. The male guards stay just outside the door and the one female guard joins me inside. She’s heavily armed, but once Bethany’s here, she’ll also be outnumbered.

I don’t plan to make a move until we’re standing at the back of the sanctuary, but if a perfect opportunity to overpower this woman and sneak out the tiny bathroom window presents itself, I’ll take it.

The next half hour ticks by with aching slowness, as I watch the door and will Bethany to arrive. A messenger arrives with my gown in a gauzy garment bag, but there’s still no sign of my cousin, not even when the guests start to be dropped off outside.

I catch glimpses of them through the bathroom window, emerging from limos and black SUVs, and feel time slipping through my fingers.

Where the hell is Bethany? Is this another one of Jean-Paul’s tricks or is she simply running late? And if she isn’t here in time to start the ceremony, should I proceed with my plan anyway? If I don’t, the goddess only knows when I might get another chance to get out of this damned collar.

Finally, it’s time to put on the dress, so I do, allowing the guard to zip me up when she offers. She’s a brusque woman—nearly a foot taller than I am with short brown hair and a perpetually unamused expression—but she surprises me by saying, “You look really pretty. It’s a great dress.”

“Thank you,” I say, meeting her gaze for the first time. “Are you married?”

She gives a slight shake of her head. “No. We aren’t allowed. Bodyguards are married to the king’s service. Or the queen’s. I’ll be transferred to your detail after the ceremony and give my life for yours if necessary.”

“Thank you,” I say. “But I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

I hope I don’t have to hurt her, either, but if I don’t have a choice, I will. This woman chose to stay with the Montreal pack and serve its king and she’s accountable for that.

It all comes down to choices.

Mine. Jean-Paul’s. And everyone who’s about to be caught in the crossfire.

I’m heading into the bathroom to look for my lock-picking kit and find out if Madame Duval is a woman of her word, when Bethany bustles into the bridal suite, her cheeks flushed and her arms full of flowers.

“I have the bouquets. They told me to bring them in. I’m so happy to see you, Jules,” she says, laying the flowers on the small table by the door. She’s wearing a black gown made of the same heavy silk as my wedding dress that’s nearly as revealing in the front. It makes my eyes widen slightly as we pull away from our welcome hug.

“Wow,” I say, glancing back down at her swollen chest. “You’ve grown.”

She exhales a shaky laugh. “Yeah. It’s the pregnancy. My breasts just keep getting bigger and bigger.”

“Who’s the father?” I ask.

Her smiles fades. “I don’t want to talk about it. If that’s okay.”

Brow furrowing, I nod. “Of course. And…I’m sorry. About earlier today and the fact that you’re caught up in this.”

“But you chose me,” she whispers, gripping both of my hands tight in hers. “That meant a lot to me, Juliet. I’m so sad about what happened to Lucas, but I’m grateful to be here with you.”

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