Chapter 26 — Lisabet

Miles and I are technically already married, but that doesn’t stop the butterflies in my stomach from fluttering around in a tornado formation.

The wedding ceremony is really just for show. Everybody loves a royal wedding. The whole capital is abuzz, full of festive music and the tolling of bells and constant conversation and gossip about the bride-to-be.

I’m getting used to the spotlight. I thought it would be more overwhelming than it actually is. The people of Oxland are incredibly polite whenever they approach to ask for an autograph or quick picture, which I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting at all.

The streets are lined with fences to make sure the crowds don’t spill out onto the streets. Floral streamers pass from roof to roof, creating an ethereal cloud of flowers above our heads as the wedding procession makes its way slowly from the summer palace to the massive cathedral located at the center of the city.

I’m seated in the back of the vehicle with Queen Isabella beside me. I’m in the same wedding dress that she wore to her wedding, and her own mother wore to hers. It’s a tradition, I’ve recently learned, that the white dress worn by brides are always to be passed down to their daughters or daughters-in-law to wear. There’s some old Oxlandian proverb that says good luck will be passed down to those women who wear their family’s white.

I could be lost in translation, though, but I think that’s the gist.

“Nervous?” Queen Isabella asks me, placing a comforting hand on my knee.

I shake my head. “No. Although, I did have a stress dream last night that I tripped on the train of the dress and went tumbling. But no, not nervous.”

Queen Isabella laughs fondly. “Don’t worry, my dear. I guarantee you that you’ll forget about everything else the second you see him at the end of the aisle.”

“Do you have any advice?”

“For what, dear?”

“I’ve been a wife before, but it’s never felt like this. I just want to make him happy. I don’t want to let him down.”

“And you won’t.”

“You seem really sure.”

“Lisabet, my dear, I’ve seen the way my son looks at you. I’m sure he’s thinking the exact same thing. As long as you strive to bring out the best in each other, you’re guaranteed a long and prosperous future. Love my son with all your heart, and he will do the same.”

The car pulls up to the cathedral entrance. Two uniformed officers pull the car door open. Queen Isabella is the first to step out, waving and smiling at those gathered outside. Applause fills the air, cheering and whistling all around. When I step out of the car, it grows even louder, voices echoing off the tall stone walls of the cathedral.

This is a far cry from what I’m used to. Not so long ago, I would have done anything not to stand out. Always wearing dull colors, always keeping to myself and minding my own business.

Now everybody’s eyes are on me and I don’t mind the slightest bit.

Photographers hastily get in position as I climb the front steps of the cathedral, eager to get the first shots of me in my wedding gown.

It’s an off-white lace gown with a five-foot train and sweeping lace veil to match. The bodice itself is decorated with an elegant pattern of in-laid pearls and crystals woven into the fabric. The edges of the sweetheart neckline, as well as the hem of the dress also host the same pattern, giving for a very classy and timeless look.

But the star accent of the day is the diamond-encrusted tiara Queen Isabella has loaned to me, a symbol of good luck on this special day. The center piece is actually an incredibly rare pink diamond, surrounded by a halo of smaller, clear ones that shine radiantly beneath the afternoon sun. It stands out gorgeously against my black hair, which has been styled into loose curls and adorned with tiny diamond clips that catch the light at every possible angle.

The crowd that’s gathered outside roars. I’ve never heard anything quite like it.

Queen Isabella takes my hand and helps me up the steep steps of the cathedral. Once inside, the sounds of everyone’s cheering only amplifies, mixing with the grave notes of the church organ.

But she’s right. I don’t think about tripping on my dress or making a fool of myself as I walk down the aisle. I don’t think about the countless cameras and the eyes of all our guests as I step forward.

The second I lay eyes on Miles, I feel like I’m walking on air.

He looks unbelievably dashing. I can’t even begin to describe how handsome he looks in his royal military dress. The navy blue of his blazer really helps bring out the light in his eyes. His hair is swept back, every strand neatly in place. His chest is covered in a series of medals and ribbons, showing off to the world his accomplishments and status.

I’m vaguely aware of stepping up onto the platform just before the alter. I’m only faintly aware of the pastor who comes delivers his speech. All of our guests are a blur in my peripheral.

I’ve only got eyes for him.

I don’t even remember exchanging our vows because it all happens so fast. Before I know it, we’re slipping rings onto each other’s fingers and then he’s coming in for a kiss, easily grabbing me by the waist and kissing me in front of the whole world to see.

It feels very much like a declaration. It’s a brand-new feeling, to be loved so openly and so profoundly in front of a million different pairs of eyes.

And I can’t get enough of it.

Any opportunity for me to show off the fact that Miles is my husband, my one and only, the love of my life, I full intend to make the most of it.

Who knew that I would end up with my very own Prince Charming?