The Archbishop whispered, “Kneel,” and she knelt, her obedience to a direct order automatic even through her shock.
The Archbishop continued with the ceremony. “When you rise, you rise together as King and Queen of Cyrano. Joined in marriage for the betterment of the nation.”
And if we stay down here?
The thought bubbled up in Mina’s mind—a deranged joke as her world ended.
The King stood, capturing her elbow his hand with a secure grip, drawing her up beside him.
So much for that,she thought wistfully.
The Archbishop bowed to them, the movement acknowledging them as co-monarchs. The King released Mina’s arm to embrace the Archbishop and then lead the older man out.
Mina stared after them, absurd thoughts bouncing around her mind like senseless pinballs:I was married by the Archbishop of Cyrano... Papa would have been so proud... Papa...
There was a neon sign in her mind, flashing in bright, desperate alarm.
Her father had married her off. To the King.
An arranged marriage. People didn’t do that anymore.
She was a scientist, not a queen.
Her knees buckled, but the King, having returned to the dais, once again steadied her, casting her a frosty glare as he did so.
She turned away from the glare, desperate for something else to focus on, knowing on some level that she couldn’t escape, but looking for a route nonetheless.
Again, the King read her mind. “There’s no way out.”
She shook her head. “There has to be. An annulment. A divorce.”
He gave a firm negative with a shake of his head. “It is an edict of the King.”
“You’re the King.”
“I wasn’t then. There is no getting out of it. I have exhausted every possibility.”
His words stung, even though she was just as desperate for answers.
“This can’t be real,” she said. “Cyrano is a modern European nation.”
As if he were arguing with a toddler, the King’s eyelids fluttered closed, and a small sound of exasperation slipped from his lips. “We are. And, like in many modern,civilizednations, it is easier to put a law on the books than it is to get it off. Though it pains me to admit it, breaking our betrothal would require a constitutional amendment.”
“But you’re the King.”
His eyes narrowed, a different kind of disappointment entering them. “A king is not above the law. I shudder to think of the counsel you would have provided as advisor, given that I have to remind you of that fact.”
She would have thought that by this point in the day she would be numb to something so minor as a casually thrown verbal barb. Instead, his words cut right to her heart. Hadn’t she been thinking along the same lines about him just moments before?
Before they were married.
“I would never suggest that.” She didn’t bother to keep the snap out of her voice. They were married now, after all. She added sarcastically, “Forgive the implication. I’m not at my best. It’s not every day that I am arrested to attend my own surprise wedding.”
Something that might have been compassion flashed across his eyes, but it was gone before she could be sure. When he spoke, he said, “Obviously we will go over terms more formally in the coming weeks, but in the immediacy of today know this: out of respect for my father, you will be Queen, with all the associated rights and requirements. That includes a private guard, access to the Queen’s suites in the palace, and an annual salary. Planning and hosting the Queen’s Ball will be your first official duty, and it will also serve as your debut.”
“But that’s just two weeks away.”
“As I mentioned, it took us longer to locate you than anticipated.”