“Right. I see. So, allow me to summarize, and please correct me if I get any of this wrong. The law does not specify how a king and queen’s children must come into the family in order to become heirs, so children born via IVF or surrogacy or who enter the family through adoption are considered part of the line of succession in the same way that children conceived naturally are.
“Further, you have never before required a reigning sovereign to prove their own fertility before taking the throne, despite the prevalence of infertility worldwide across both sexes.”
I leaned back in my chair, resting my right ankle on top of my left knee and folding my hands over my abdomen. “So, what I am left with is you determining that Ms. Levy is not fit to be queen, not because of any moral or ethical failing on her part, but because her private medical information was leaked to the public. Is that correct?”
Silence.
“Let me be perfectly clear: I intend to marry Ms. Levy on June 1, as has been the plan for months. I do not wish to make an enemy of the Council, but I find your judgmentin this matter to be unconscionable. It does not take any political savvy to recognize that Ms. Levy has the makings of a wonderful queen and strong leader, and that is without witnessing the poise and eloquence with which she fought for some of the most marginalized members of our communities in this very building just a few days ago. The matter of her fertility is irrelevant to me and should be irrelevant to you as well. Women have been fighting for decades to be seen as more than their fertility, but this conversation today has shown me just how far there is to go in that battle. I suggest you all do some reflecting to determine exactly how we ended up here today and how you all can better do your actual jobs—which, to be clear, include advocating on behalf of your constituents, not policing their bodies.”
Uncrossing my legs, I pushed back my chair and rose. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll see myself out.”
I spun on my heel, prepared to exit the room, when I heard Head Councilwoman Banks speak again. “Your Majesty,” she began. I turned to find her glancing between the Council members, sharing a fast, silent conversation. “You are right. Ms. Levy will make a wonderful queen. We are sorry to have wasted your time today and we stand in support of your upcoming wedding. I will release a statement to the press today summarizing as much.”
I inclined my head once. “Thank you. I look forward to celebrating with you all in just a few weeks.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, scowling in the mirror as I whipped off my tie and restarted the knot for the third time.
My dad appeared in the mirror behind me. “Let me help you with that, son.”
I sighed and turned to face him. “I don’t know why the ridiculous thing isn’t cooperating with me.”
Dad chuckled. “When I married your mother, I was so nervous that it took me five tries to properly tie my shoes.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Really?”
He nodded. “Absolutely. You can be one thousand percent certain of your choice of partner and ready to start your lives together andstillbe nervous about saying your vows in front of several hundred guests.” He finished the full Windsor knot and stepped back, his hands on my shoulders. “And I know without a doubt that you have chosen wisely, Oliver. You and Adelaide have a beautiful future ahead of you.”
“Thanks, Dad. For everything.”
He pulled me into a tight hug. “I love you. And I’m so proud of you.”
“I love you, too,” I said, squeezing him once before pulling back.
I finished getting dressed, tucking the tie into my navy waistcoat, fastening the golden cufflinks with my family’s seal embossed on them that Adelaide had gifted me the night before, putting on my shoes, and slipping on my black morning coat. One last look in the mirror to confirm that my hair was still perfectly in place, and I was ready.Or at least, as ready as I’ll ever be.
Knox approached, clad in matching morning dress, and clapped me on the shoulder. “It’s about time to head down to the cars.”
I nodded. “A year ago, could you have imagined we would be here? You engaged to Birdie and me about to walk down the aisle?”
Knox threw his head back. “A year ago, if you had told me anything about what our lives would look like now, I would have laughed you out of the building. And I wouldn’t trade where we both are for anything in the world.”
I stood at the front of Wexstone’s oldest cathedral, willing myself to breathe. The ornate stained-glass windows sent a kaleidoscope of colors dancing across the white marble floor, offering my mind a bit of an escape as I waited for my bride. It was a good thing I would be changing before the black-tie reception later; I had already sweat through my shirt.
Dash, Adelaide’s man of honor, was currently making his way down the aisle, followed by Knox, my best man, and Birdie, the maid of honor. Birdie looked beautiful in her silkbias-cut dress that draped perfectly over her body, though it was hard for me to focus on anything other than my excitement at seeing Adelaide. She had spent the night at The Sheridan Hotel with Birdie, Dash, Mel, and Mel’s girlfriend Sam—who happened to also be Birdie’s American best friend and had flown in from New York two days ago for the festivities. I had yet to lay eyes on Adelaide and was crawling out of my skin in anticipation.
Knox and Birdie made it to their places and there was a pause as the music changed, the string quartet playing the opening chords of “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.”
“Please rise,” Archbishop Rose intoned, motioning upward with her hands.
I thought my heart would beat out of my chest as I watched the guests stand, each of them turning to face the back of the church. I spotted Xavier watching me from his spot beside Mum and Dad; he nodded at me briefly, a slight smile on his lips as he placed an arm around Alexandra, who was cradling a sleeping Aiden in her arms.
The doors of the church opened, and Adelaide floated down the aisle, her hand in the crook of her father’s arm.
This is it. I’ve died and have gone to heaven. There’s no other explanation; no human being could possibly look as perfect as she does. She must be a literal angel.
My mouth fell open as I took her in. Her dress was unbelievable—the neckline perfectly framed her breasts, and the full skirt had a slit that allowed her leg to peek through as she walked. A long veil flowed behind her but did not obscure her face, which was the most breathtaking part of her.
She was utterly radiant, joy shining from her as though she was lit from within. A tendril of her blonde hair framed her cheeks, which held a hint of a blush. My eyes trailed toher lips, which were painted in a mauve that complemented her natural coloring perfectly.
