and your heir. And because of your...situation...in our court, I’m not sure we’ll be able to protect you. But make her princess of both courts...”
“This is madness,” the king says.
Prince Nikolai nods once. “But it is the only way.” The king doesn’t argue. “The Nightgardin court will hate it,” Nikolai continues. “But their fury will be less than if we allow you to make a whore out of their only daughter and heir. Apologies,” he says to me in a softer tone. “Those aren’t my sentiments. Your kingdom is more conservative.”
I clear my throat, rest a protective hand over my belly. “I understand. My own mother said all of your words to my face...and worse. She cursed the day I was brought into this world. She told me that she wished that I had never been born. It’s only because Wartson never learned I’d been sullied that I am still alive—that the wedding is still on. But I obviously could not go through with it. Not with another man’s child in my womb. Not with Edenvale’s royal blood coursing through my child’s veins. So I fled.”
“How?” Damien narrows his eyes.
I shrug. “I tied four bedsheets together and escaped from my tower like any self-respecting princess. After slipping my servant girl a sleep aid, of course.”
X steps forward again. “Sir, if I may,” he says, addressing Damien. “Either you marry this remarkable woman, or I will.”
Benedict and Nikolai chuckle, but Damien betrays no emotion.
I don’t understand this family. Even in crisis there is humor here, and evidence of love.
“Do it not for her or even the child I believe will turn out to be yours,” the king adds. “Because the worst possible scenario here is that you impregnated our enemy’s heir, and face it, son. If there is a worst possible scenario, you will find a way to achieve it.”
Damien winces at this, and despite the iron will I promised myself I’d have, my heart aches not for the wounds we all can see, but those he’s kept buried far beneath his gruff surface.
I think about the possibilities if Damien and I marry, despite what he feels—or does not feel—for me. My child could grow up here and be safe. Have a life. Freedom. It’s more than I ever could have expected with the duke.
And who knows, maybe the impossible can happen, and someday, far in the future, he or she will be able to bring an end to the tensions between our two kingdoms.
My gaze locks on Damien’s, and this time I don’t look away. It hurts to experience his stare without any feeling behind it—at least not the love I thought we shared. I should have known better, that I was not meant for true love. But at least here my child will have that chance.
Anger and suspicion surround Damien as an almost visible miasma. “Highness?” I ask. “What shall it be?”
This is not what I planned for my wedding day, but at least he is not an old lecherous duke. Never was this day a happy event in my mind, but I hadn’t quite imagined the groom would be in his pajamas looking as if he’d just lost a bar brawl.
“What the hell? Let’s do it,” Damien growls. “But fair warning, Princess, I’m cursed.” He winks.
I force a bitter grin. “Then it appears that we have very much in common.”
Damien
“TO THE CHAPEL, THEN!” Benedict says with a flourish.
I readjust my robe and tie it tight. There’s being underdressed for an occasion and then there is flat-out ridiculous.
“He’s wearing a robe, my love,” Evangeline says, hooking her arm through Benedict’s. Not that I expected her to come to my rescue, but thank fucking hell someone did.
Juliet unbuttons her camel-colored coat to reveal the servant’s dress she wears beneath. It’s a plain gray smock of a thing with a white apron tied over it. But something about the way her hair falls over her shoulders gives me a sense of déjà vu. I shake it off. There’s no way that I would have made love to Nightgardin’s princess as she claims I did. I was inside one woman like that, and I ruined her wholly and completely. What kind of fool would I have been to make such a mistake twice?
“We’re quite the pair, are we not?” Juliet asks.
“It won’t make the cover of Vogue.” Kate giggles, then covers her mouth. “I think it’s perfect,” she says when she regains control. “You’ll both remember your wedding day for years to come.”
Benedict claps his hands. “We must go now,” he says. “Once Nightgardin realizes Juliet is missing—if they haven’t already—the Black Watch will be after her. And if they know about Damien—”
“Then there will be guns blazing by nightfall,” Nikolai says. “So get your ass to the chapel and save all of our lives, Damien. For once think of someone other than yourself.”
All eyes rest on me now, but I grit my teeth and stride out of the room, my shoulder brushing Nikolai’s as I do.
I can physically feel his rage rising off his body like steam.
“Wait up!” Juliet says, jogging to my side. We are now some haphazard-looking entourage heading out of the palace and across the grounds to the chapel.
“What?” I ask, and this stops her short. But when I keep walking, she starts to catch up again.
“What?” she asks. “What? We’re about to do something unheard of, and you don’t even want to know a little about the woman with whom you are going to spend eternity.”
I snort. “Eternity? This changes nothing, doll. It’s a piece of paper that you can use to prove to your parents that you aren’t...” The words taste bitter. “Aren’t our whore. That is how you said they spoke to you, yes?”
And though she’s been called the name unintentionally once by Nikolai and who knows how many times by her own parents, I’m sick at having to remind her of such a thing. I do not know this woman, but I wish her no harm. No discomfort. Perhaps this is all a game and she’s playing us for fools. But to what end? It doesn’t make sense—the idea of Nightgardin royalty waltzing onto palace grounds to simply use us for some deadly sport.
She falters as we make it through the chapel gates, and I instinctively grab her under the elbow. The brief touch sends an electric jolt up my forearm.
“Easy there, Princess,” I say. “You need food.”
She shakes her head. “I think I already proved that keeping food down isn’t exactly my forte right about now. Morning sick—”
X is beside her with a clean white bag just as the wave hits, and her body convulses.
“Morning sickness,” I say, finishing her sentence.
Once again, everyone stops and forms an arc around the princess. Soon to be my princess, I suppose.
“I’m fine,” she insists after I roll up the bag. “But we should probably skip the whole you may now kiss the bride part?”
She grins sheepishly.
X presses a hand to an ear, then whispers something to my father.
“Go at once,” the king says. “Keep whoever it is busy until we’ve done what’s meant to be done.”
X slips past us and onto the grounds.
“Everything okay, Father?” I ask, but he turns his attention to Nikolai.
“They’re here.”
Juliet gasps, and even I cannot feign disinterest.
“Nightgardin?” I say, teeth gritted. Because somehow