CHAPTER ELEVEN
SHESTILLCOULDN’Tbelieve they were getting married.
She’d slept for thirteen hours straight once they’d arrived in Calla and woken with a thirst unlike any she’d ever had before. Even the strange realities of pregnancy felt brighter, since she was facing the future with the man she loved at her side.
And now, she sat on her private balcony, situated off the suite, viewing the sea. The same staff person that had helped her before had delivered her wedding attire, which was lying out on the bed in the room behind her.
She was taking her mother’s advice, and even Drake’s—she wasn’t giving her father another moment of her life. He was dead and she was going to live, not in penance for his sins, but because she deserved happiness after surviving him.
She and Drake did together.
As unorthodox as it was, he’d planned their entire elopement, down to ordering something special for her. She’d expected something ridiculous, only to be stunned by what she found.
Her bridal attire was made of exquisite, featherlight linen, comfortable and loose-fitted while remaining flattering. She’d appreciated the way the wide cut of the pants and the long brightly embroidered sleeveless tunic gave the illusion of added length to her already wiry frame. She loved the ensemble on sight, knowing it would look elegant on her without restricting her movement in the least. The cut emphasized how slim she was in the middle, and the assists she had, while the lovely embroidery, with various shades of blue, from cornflower to aqua to navy to sapphire, distracted from the fact that she had more hard angles than curves. And when she had seen herself in it in the mirror, she gasped, because, despite the fact that she had been draped in bespoke couture since before she could walk, it was the first time she’d ever worn something that had so obviously been selected with her in mind. Not her role, her utility, or her power—just her. Her personality, her thoughts and her needs. The flats that accompanied it, supple, flexible strappy things that moved with her feet, yet were delicate and pretty at the same time, were further evidence that the mind behind the ensemble had taken in every single detail about her since their meeting, observing and tending to her each and every need.
And it wasn’t a dress.
In fact, her wedding was shaping up to be nothing like what she had imagined it would be. Granted, she had been six years old the last time she’d imagined her wedding, but even the rough outline she’d formed in early childhood had taken place in Cyrano surrounded by friends and family.
Instead, she was to meet her groom where he was waiting for her on a boardwalk by the sea in his lovely harbor city, their nuptials attended only by the officiant and the witness he’d brought to the island for the event. That nuptials were to occur at all, intimate and private or not, was truly a shift in fate.
But when she arrived, even that expectation turned out to be off.
Rather than the small group of strangers she’d expected, standing on the pier was her mother, as well as King Zayn and Queen Mina.
Tears glistened in her mother’s eyes.
Zayn, as always, looked bored. “It took you long enough, cuz.”
Hel opened her mouth to retort back, but before the words came out a pair of long, golden-brown arms pushed the king out of the way.
“I told you not to be antagonistic!” Irritation colored the woman’s voice as the owner of the arms stepped aside to get a better look at her.
“Mina.” Hel’s sense of relief at seeing the queen, safe and sound, was smaller only than her joy and surprise at having one of her dearest friends, with her heart of a gold and brilliant mind to match, at her wedding.
Hel felt recharged merely standing in the warmth of her hazel gaze.
Crossing to her with long-legged strides, Mina drew Hel into a warm, summer-scented embrace.
Smiling her bright, far-too-open smile—the one Hel despaired of her ever learning to guard—Mina said, “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too. A lot to catch up on.”
Mina said dryly, “That’s an understatement,” and Hel laughed.
“We came here as soon as someone was sure it was safe for me to leave the summer palace.” Mina rolled her eyes and thumbed in the direction of the king, but Hel was in agreement with Zayn. She wouldn’t have approved of Mina remaining in the capital without both of her regular guards.
“Where’s Moustafa?” Hel asked, noting her partner’s absence.
Guilt dimmed Mina’s smile, made it tight. “When it rains, it pours, eh? I’ll catch you up on that, later. For now, we have more pressing matters. Namely—you getting married.”
Instincts on alert, Hel wanted to know more about Moustafa, but had a feeling that was a story she was going to have to wait on. Zayn and Drake eyed each other with barely restrained hostility, which she supposed had to do with a combination of the kidnapping and Zayn being the only living male relative she had remaining. Her cousin was nothing if not traditional.
After hugging her mother and once again exclaiming with Mina, the small group took their places. Hel’s mother walked her down the aisle toward Drake, who, true to his word, looked for all the world like a man marrying the love of his life.
They said goodbye to everyone on the pier when Drake made the announcement that they would be taking their honeymoon at Yancy Grove.
What she thought was going to be a nightmare had turned out to be a dream.