“I am not stubborn! And you swore you wouldn’t call Sabrina, you liar,” a voice that sounds awfully like Lizzy’s shouts in the background, in reply to which Jeff growls, “Get back in bed.”
What the what?!
Get back in where?!
What the hell is going on, and why are Lizzy and a bed both involved?
Holding the phone tighter, I turn my back on the queen as I whisper, “Jeffrey? Is that my sister? Let me talk to my sister!”
But the line goes dead before he answers.
Stifling a groan of frustration, I darken the screen and take a deeper breath, trying to calm my galloping pulse. But it’s no use. My heart is an oil piston, churning madly, refusing to stop until it pumps every last bit of composure out of my body, leaving me a trembling, babbling mess.
My hand is visibly shaking as I turn and hand the queen her cell, and I’m sure my smile looks more like a grimace.
But as usual, Felicity is too kind to comment on the fact that I’m a basket case. “I’m so sorry,” she says, gently squeezing my arm. “I promise this isn’t a reflection on you or Jeffrey’s support for the marriage. It’s my fault for being too lenient with all three of them while they were growing up.”
I shake my head. “No, it isn’t. You’re wonderful.”
She is wonderful—far too wonderful for a daughter-in-law who has lied her face off to her and everyone else in her family since the moment we met.
“I should have done a better job of impressing upon them the importance of honoring your obligations,” she insists. “And showing up for the people you love.”
“It’s obvious that Jeffrey loves Andrew very much,” I say. Jeffrey is champing at the bit to take me down, but he’s holding back for his brother’s benefit. Because he thinks it will be easier for Andrew if he hears the truth from me.
And I hope it will be.
I hope I’ll be able to convince Andrew that I never meant to hurt anyone, and that I’ve come to care about him more than I ever imagined possible. I pray that he’ll listen and be able to see past the hurt and betrayal to the amazing possibilities waiting on the other side, but…
Well, I’m no fool. I know big forgiveness like this doesn’t come cheap or easy.
“I think you’ve done a wonderful job with all three of them,” I add, my voice thick with emotion.
“Oh, no, we can’t do this.” Felicity’s eyes begin to shine as she laughs and rubs my upper arms briskly up and down. “No crying yet. Not until the wedding day. It’s bad luck before.”
“But then it’s okay?” I sniff and try to smile, but it curdles on my lips.
She nods. “Yes, then it’s good luck. Back in my grandmother’s day, the bride’s family would hire women from the village to cry extra tears on the big day. Tears at a wedding water the roots of a happy future. Or so the folk wisdom goes.”
“Your majesty?” a deep voice murmurs from the doorway behind us. “The women are lining up in the hall, and the groom and his men are on their way down to the horses.”
“Thank you, Daniel.” Felicity beams a smile my way. “Are you ready, darling?”
Heart lurching into piston mode all over again, I nod.
“Then let’s go celebrate,” she says, leading the way out of the room.
Jaw tight and insides churning, I curl my hands into fists and will myself to hold it together for at least another hour. I just have to get through the ceremony and smile for the cameras, and then I can get Andrew alone and spill my wretched guts.
Hopefully, he won’t hate me.
Please, please, please, I silently chant as I take my place at the end of the procession, following the rest of the high-ranking women of the Gallantian court across the lawn. Please don’t hate me, Andrew. At least, not so much that you forget you might love me a little, too.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Andrew
I turn, spotting her across the lawn, and time stops. The world goes soft until the girl with the flowers in her hair is the only thing in sharp focus.
She’s so beautiful it takes my breath away.
My stress and anxiety, too.
For a moment, as attendants boost Elizabeth onto her horse beside me, her hair golden in the setting sun and her cheeks flushed with excitement, I forget all about the flask in my pocket and my suspect plans.
I forget everything but how good it feels to thread my fingers through hers, to hold her gaze as my great-great-uncle wraps a pair of reins around our wrists, symbolizing the joining of our houses. We ride through the ivy-covered arbor—ivy symbolizing fertility and the arbor representing our rebirth as one instead of two. The crowd bursts into applause, and still, I don’t think about what I’ve planned to do or how deeply confused I’ve been.