My bridesmaids trail behind me, carrying my long train, as is tradition, but I so wish I could see their faces. One reassuring smile from my sister would help me to be brave.
At the altar, bathed in golden light, is Bram. He’s in a green velvet coat, a delicate circlet of gold laid on his hair.
The pointed tips of his ears poke through his unruly waves, and he’s never looked less human.
But he’s beaming. He’s staring at me like he loves me. I am lucky, I keep reminding myself, to have this, havehim.
Why, then, do my eyes keep landing on his brother?
Prince Emmett stands next to him, his jaw clenched, his hands in fists at his side. His all-black suit makes him look dressed for a funeral. In his eyes is an emotion I can’t name. Agony is the closest word I can muster, but that doesn’t make any sense.
How can he hate me when he doesn’t even know me? The whole thing makes my stomach turn with unease.
But I paste a smile on my face. I’m about to become a princess. There’s a man who loves me, who wants to make me happy. It’s so much more than I ever thought I’d get. My mother and father andLydia are going to be safe, protected by my status, and I will live without fear of destitution. My children and their children will be royalty. I haven’t just saved my parents and my sister, I’ve ensured that our family will be safe for generations. Queen Mor is immortal, and she will remember me as she welcomes my great-grandchildren to court.
We make it to the altar, and the music hums to a close.
Bram lowers the hood of my cape, then captures both my hands in his. He looks down at me with his gray eyes, and I am struck, as I always am, by his profound beauty. “Thank you for this,” he says, but I’m not entirely sure what he means.
The priestess says something about love and commitment and duty, but the words are nothing but a dull buzzing in my ears.
I can’t stop looking at Emmett. He’s looking straight ahead, not at either of us. It’s a look I recognize well because it’s often on my own face, the look of someone who would rather be anywhere but here.
“The rings, please,” the priestess drones.
Emmett doesn’t move.
The priestess clears her throat. “The rings?”
“Oh.” Emmett jumps and digs into his pocket. He pulls out two circles of Welsh gold and places them in the priestess’s palm. His hands are shaking.
The sun sinks low on the horizon, a glorious finale on the longest day of the year. The evening dips into twilight as Bram takes my hand in his.
He places the ring around my finger with gentle care and a look in his eyes so full of joy, I can’t help but smile back at him. “All that I am and all that I have is yours,” Bram promises.
I slide his on in turn. I’ve done it. It’s done.
Bram’s eyes well with tears as he picks up my May Queen tiara from where it rests on a velvet pillow on the altar and lowers it onto my head.
“In the power vested in me by Her Eternal Majesty Queen Moryen, I pronounce you husband and wife,” says the priestess.
Bram slips his arm around the small of my back and kisses me. It’s much too passionate a kiss for a public ceremony like this, and when he pulls back, he’s laughing.
Suddenly there’s screaming coming from the crowd. Shouts of panicked confusion. People stand, and chairs are toppled.
It’s chaos. My head spins, my stomach lurches, and my mouth fills with something acrid and metallic. I spit a mouthful of blood, and it splatters all over the altar.
I lock eyes with Emmett, and it all comes flooding back. That first night in the carriage, the coaching inn, the secret glances across candlelit ballrooms, his hands on my back, his mouth on my neck. I’m nearly knocked backward by the force of the love I feel for him.
I turn to Bram, panicked, but he’s still just standing there, laughing like this is the funniest thing in the world.
In the front row, Queen Mor stands, her chair toppling behind her. “No!” she screams. “Bram, what have you done?”
He shakes his head, like this is all some joke she just doesn’t understand. “Seize her.”
Lydia Benton
I don’t know where to look. All around, people are shouting, sobbing, screaming so loud it makes my ears ring. A bolt of lightning strikes across the sky just as Lord Bexham trips into me, his hair suddenly returned, and vomits into the bushes.
