“They’ll follow us to the church,” Henry says. “I’m going to try to lose them up here.” He makes a sharp turn that throws me against Theo’s side. The panicky feeling in my chest grows. I look back at the car and my lips go numb when I see that it’sstill following us. I close my eyes, throw one arm around Comet, and grasp Theo’s hand.
“Stop the car!” Theo barks.
“Just give me a second. I know I can lose them,” Henry protests. He turns up another narrow side street, weaving around parked cars. Victoria screams at Henry and throws her hands over her head. The tingling numbness extends to my hands. I draw in a jagged breath.
“Slow down!” Theo orders, and Henry finally lets off the gas and flips a U-turn to take us to the church. I crane my neck to see the car, and my pulse hammers when I see how close it still is; its bumper nearly touches ours as Henry slows to a stop at an intersection. I make eye contact with the driver, and goose bumps race across my arms.
“It won’t back off,” I say as a sick feeling of dread washes through me. I try to take a deep breath but can’t get enough air. There’s a pressure slowly crushing my chest, cutting off my airway, and I’m shaking all over. Henry rolls our car forward, and another series of camera flashes blind me. I tear my eyes off our stalkers, spin around in my seat, and barely have time to register the second car that appears from a side street before it slams into us.
The crunch of metal on metal makes my stomach pitch. Victoria screams. The Aston Martin spins across the road, crashing over the curb and into a tree. By the time I look up, choking on a cloud of smoke, the other cars have peeled away from the scene.
“Is everyone okay?” I blink through the smoke and check Comet for signs of injury. My hands are shaking so violently that it’s painful.
“I think so.”
“I’m good.”
“Not hurt.”
My knees tremble as I unbuckle my seat belt and hike up my dress to climb out over the side of the car. My bare feet hit cold sidewalk, and I walk around to look at the smoking, crumpled front corner of the car. My stomach drops, and I can’t breathe.I’m back in the water after the plane crash, plunging toward the ocean floor.
“What do we do now?” Victoria rubs her neck. Behind her, the pointed arches of Westminster reach into the starry sky.
My gaze rises to meet Theo’s. His face is ghostly pale.
“This is still happening, right? I didn’t cock up the wedding, did I?” Henry looks between Theo and me.
“You and Tor go in. Wren and I need a minute.”
My panic rises as they leave. I close my eyes and breathe slowly through my nose, fighting off the familiar warning sirens in my head that scream to untangle myself before I run out of air.
It’s the dress,I decide. The dress is too tight.
When I open my eyes, Theo is crouched in front of the damaged car. “Someone could have been killed.”
I remember thinking the same thing after being chased in Toronto, and the wedding dress and fancy car don’t make this time any less awful. “Almost dying is what we do best,” I quip to cover my anxious energy.
Theo looks wordlessly at me, his expression pained. “Wren,” he says softly, and I realize too late that joking about this isn’t going to make it any less terrifying.
“I know,” I say. We both look wordlessly up at Westminster, and I see our future as clear as the illuminated church. If Theo and I get married tonight, we’ll spend the rest of our liveshiding from the press and fighting with the Firm. And the craziest part of all? I still think it might be worth it.
“Wren—”
I cut him off, because my name sounds all wrong. “Call me Wheeler,” I say, grabbing his hand. “Better yet, call me American girl. I always loved when you did that.” He pulls his hand out of mine, and tears burn behind my eyes.
“Wren—” he says again, and this time his voice breaks on my name. “I love you more now than I did at our first wedding, which is why I can’t let you stay. You won’t be happy here.”
I feel like I’m climbing up sand, scrabbling for purchase as the ground caves beneath my feet. “Does it matter what I want?”
His eyes search mine. “Why do you want to marry me?”
“Because I love you.”
He looks like he’s in pain. “And why do you want to be queen?”
What kind of question is that?“Because you’re the king.”
His expression crumples, and he looks like he’s pleading with me. “If that’s all you’ve got, then you’re going to regret giving up your choices. You deserve a future made on your own terms.”
