I smile at Dad as we reach Jakob, and pass my bouquet to Briar. She looks radiantly happy and so different to how she looked the last time I saw her.
Then I turn to Jakob. He takes my hands and squeezes them in his scarred ones. The redness in his burns has faded, but the backs of his hands are still roughened. He hesitates a moment, and then grasps the edge of the veil and pulls it up and over my head.
He takes my face in his hands and presses his forehead to mine as he takes a shuddering breath. “Is this really happening, little fox?”
I cover his hands with mine, overcome with emotion. “I think so. I hope so.”
I’m barely aware of speaking my vows, or hearing Jakob say his, because I can’t tear my eyes away from his face and the love I feel for him that is flooding through me.
Then we’re walking back down the aisle, my arm looped through Jakob’s and his cane in his other hand as he favors his injured foot. Red and white rose petals tumble over us as we emerge into the crisp air. Flashes from cameras are going off as we’re embraced and kissed by Mum and Dad, Tamsen, Briar, Archduke and Archduchess Levanter, Aubrey and Cassian.
And then I realize I’m hugging and kissing King Anson and I gasp in shock. I pull away and drop into a curtsey. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”
He just smiles and takes my hands. “Congratulations, Sachelle. I’ve never seen a more radiant bride.”
Then he turns to Jakob and clasps his shoulders. “Look at you now, Jakob. I can barely believe it.”
“We’ve come a long way, Your Majesty.”
As they embrace, I hear King Anson whisper to my husband, “I couldn’t have done it without you. I owe you everything, and I’ll never forget that.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jakob replies, his voice husky with emotion.
The wedding reception is at Hotel Ivera, and Jakob and I are seated in the back of the wedding car while the rest of the guests follow.
I turn to my husband and take his hand. “The King is so grateful to you. How was it for you both when you were boys and he was Varga’s prisoner?”
Jakob thinks for a moment, his face growing somber. “I’ll tell you, but it’s a story for another day. It’s Anson and Remus’ story, too. They should have their chance to tell it.”
I think of the revelations about the past that emerge in the papers every week. I wonder how many more secrets there are in Paravel left to tell.
It’s many hours before Jakob and I are finally alone together in the bridal suite of the hotel. I take off my wedding dress in the enormous bathroom and let my hair down. I take off my bra and underwear, too, but leave on the white stockings, and then place the veil over my hair.
I go back out to Jakob, who’s reclining on the bed with his shoes off and his tie loosened.
He gives me a smoldering smile as he sits up. “Well, look at you, Mrs. Rasmussen.”
I turn about on the spot for him. “Am I bridal? I feel very bridal right now.”
Very turned on, too. It’s been days since our quickie on the sofa at Balzac House, but now we have all night.
“I can’t believe we’re married,” he murmurs, as he crosses the carpet toward me and takes me in his arms. “And I only had to blackmail you a little to make it happen.”
“Blackmail? I thought that was seduction,” I tease.
He smiles as he lifts me in his arms and lays me down on the bed. Slowly, he draws back the veil, revealing my naked body. His hungry eyes devour me, and then he leans in for a kiss. “You’re right. I’m seducing my bride, and I’m the happiest man in all of Paravel.”
Epilogue
Matilda
PALACE RECORDS IMPLICATE KING GREGOR AND QUEEN PENELOPE IN BANK SCANDAL AND MURDER COVER-UPS.
I read the headline with pleasure as I bite into my croissant and munch happily away. It’s another freezing morning in Paravel, but it’s Sunday, and that means I get to spend breakfast in my favorite café by Royal Park. After this, I’ll go to mass, and then I’ll put flowers on my mother’s grave and my father’s plaque.
Not his grave. I don’t have a grave to visit because traitors don’t get funerals. I never got to bury his body, but the priest was kind enough to let me put a marker in the churchyard next to my mother’s headstone.
Until then, I can drink my coffee and catching up on the news.
It’s all coming out. All the royal family’s dark secrets. I absent-mindedly play with the gold cross around my neck as I read the newspaper. If I’d gone to the press with the story, it would have seemed like the government hadn’t been in place for five minutes before it was trying to discredit the King. With Varga’s children, Vadim and Valentina, still unaccounted for, I worry that the smallest thing could destabilize the country and hurl us all back into a dictatorship. Lady Sachelle did a wonderful job sorting through those memos and getting them in front of the right journalists.