I thought I’d be nervous walking down the aisle of the abbey.
I’m not.
Ready is the word I’d use. Ready to accept and embrace my life. The one I’ve been told I would have since before I understood what those words meant. And as the archbishop presents the orb and scepter, and the sword and the crown—all the things he removed from my grandfather’s casket months ago... I accept them with the understanding that I’m their guardian, keeping them and this country safe with everything I am, so my child can one day do the same.
But even as I’m anointed with the holy oils and accept this sacred duty, it’s not me my mind and my heart are focusing on. It’s what comes next.
And once my part is done, I watch my beautiful queen, who’s carrying our unborn child, be crowned. My heart races in my chest as it’s done, as the prayers are recited and the hymns sung. Because I am nothing without her.
When she’s presented to me and curtsies like she’s been doing it for a lifetime instead of only a few months, I stand and shock the two thousand people in the abbey. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. She’s supposed to curtsy and be escorted back to her seat by the Duke of Salem. But instead, I take her hand and walk her to her throne.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, and I gently kiss her lips.
“I am strong because you are at my side, my love. You will never walk alone again.” I hold her hand as she turns to face the men and women gathered to watch us today.
Atticus says something to one of the many dukes he stands amongst, and then my throne is quickly moved next to hers, and we take our seats together, as we should. A united front.
That is all anyone will ever see from us again.
A king made stronger by his queen.
“How bloody long do we have to stay at this thing?” Atticus groans as he stands next to me at the coronation ball that evening. “I can think of better ways to celebrate.”
“I won’t tell anyone you left,” I joke. “Who’s going to give you shit anyway? Me?”
“Good point.”
“Before you go...” I stop him, needing to say this. I owe him this. “I never thanked you.”
“Thanked me for what? My spectacular dart skills that led to that incredibly smart and beautiful woman being drunk enough to marry your sorry ass?”
“That too, but no.” Shit, this is harder than I expected. “When I told Parliament if I had to choose, I’d choose Bellamy and threw you to the wolves without a warning.”
“Fucking wanker.” He grins.
“You took it, brother. You sat there and took it for me. To protect me. You shouldn’t have had to do that, but I asked you to without ever actually asking. I feel like that’s been a running theme for most of our adult lives.”
“You’ll protect her, and I’ll protect you. We both have our jobs to do, Rhys. Mum didn’t just teach you, you know. I know my role, and it’s to protect you at all costs.” He straightens his spine and grabs a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter. “The house of Windsor will always survive, and soon there’ll be a new heir.”
Bellamy catches my eye and smiles from across the dance floor, where Ares and she are dancing. “That we will, brother.” I clap his shoulder. “Excuse me while I steal my wife.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Rhys.” Atticus’s voice dims behind me as I tap Ares’s shoulder.
Before I even ask, Ares steps aside, and my queen smiles the most radiant smile as I take her in my arms. “How are you feeling, my love?”
“Honestly?” she asks. “I’m so tired, I may sleep for the next week straight. Can you please tell me why we had to do this while I was ridiculously pregnant?”
I move her around the dance floor slowly, careful to take as much of her weight as she’ll allow. “In all fairness, this was planned before we found out you were pregnant.”
“Being the voice of reason will not be what gets you laid tonight, my king.”
We both laugh, and she rests her head on my shoulder. “Rhys...”
“Yes, love.”
“What is it like?” She looks up at me through inky black lashes, and I wonder if this is a trick question.
“What’s what like?”
