Alexandre hadn’t been allowed to play because, as always, his hands had to be protected. He might have landed with an arm down and broken his wrist.
Christine had been jumping off with them, though, because she hadn’t been serious about the violin at the time. She’d been so little that she’d been clambering up onto the seat and hopping into the air with her body straight and rigid like a leaping dolphin before landing at the base of it.
And Nico.
Nico had been there, scrambling to the top of the throne with Maxence, and they’d flown through the sunlit air with their arms outstretched, trying to outdo each other.
The people who’d always been in his life were falling away.
But new people entered.
He glanced over at Dree.
She was pouting. “So wait. I don’t get a tiara? I thought princesses got tiaras. It’s kind of half the point of being a princess, you know,the tiara.”
“Oh, no. We own several tiaras.” He dried his face. “Do you think my grandmother, Princess Grace, would’ve married my grandfather if there hadn’t been a tiara involved?”
“She was a levelheaded Pennsylvania girl. She would’ve made sure of having a tiara.”
“And I was rather thinking of having Cartier design a new one for you to celebrate our wedding in a few months.”
“Well, okay then. As long as we’ve got that straight.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Malizia
Maxence
Maxence had attended official events since he’d been a toddler. He vaguely remembered his uncle Prince Rainier IV’s enthronement when Maxence had been about six. Walking through official functions while looking solemn and responsible were part of every royal’s training.
Every moment of this day felt different to him.
Maxence had never been supposed to be the heir. Like Henry VIII of England, he’d prepared himself to walk away graciously but now had greatness thrust upon him.
It all seemed to be happening at a distance, the cardinal’s voice echoing like he had water in his ears.
The Mass spun around him.
The cardinal placed the chalky communion wafer on his tongue, and he broke it up with his teeth and swallowed the dust.
Dree kneeled beside him, also taking the communion wafer on her tongue as the sunlight found the enormous diamond of her engagement ring and filled the air of the Saint Nicholas Cathedral with stars.
Cardinals and bishops prayed over Maxence, imploring God to grant him wisdom and strength.
Their hands settled on his head and shoulders like a cowl as they prayed in Latin, French, and the Monegasque dialect.
Maxence could not shake the feeling that he had stolen this day from someone else.
They walked back through the Place de Palais, the expansive courtyard outside the castle that overlooked the harbor. Velvet ropes lined a red carpet that led from the head of the street to the tall entrance to the palace, one of the few breaches in the fortress’s walls.
Citizens of Monaco and tourists packed the courtyard beyond the ropes, their cheers muffled by the confusion around Maxence’s head.
Beyond the courtyard and cannons atop the wall, the Mediterranean Sea lapped at the boats and rocky shore.
The sun was bright overhead, and only a mild breeze plucked at the red and white field of the Monegasque flags fluttering from every spire atop the palace.
The Mediterranean should be calm.
