Epilogue
TWO MONTHS.
It had been two months since the sheikh made me his wife, and still I found myself standing before the mirror, searching for the woman he claimed to see.
The queen’s chambers were far grander than anything I had ever imagined calling my own.
Silk drapes in shades of ivory and gold framed windows that overlooked the palace gardens.
The vanity before me was carved from rosewood, its surface cluttered with jeweled combs and perfume bottles that sparkled like tiny stars.
And in the center of it all sat me.
Aurora, his queen.
The thought still made my breath catch and my fingers tremble as I fastened the last of my earrings—teardrop sapphires that matched the delicate beading on my gown.
Tonight was my first official engagement as queen.
A charity ball in honor of orphaned children from broken families, and the irony of it was not lost on me.
I knew what it felt like to be unwanted. To be the child no one chose.
Even now, the echoes of my mother’s voice drifted through my mind like smoke I couldn’t quite wave away.
You’ll never be as beautiful as Aretha.
You’ll never be as graceful.
You’ll never be enough.
The memories still hurt, but there were times I still found myself wishing it would be okay to hear those hurtful words again, if that would mean having them alive.
So much had changed since the night Mik’hail brought me back to the palace.
Aretha had been sent to a private facility abroad, a rehabilitation center for grief management, though we both knew it was more than that.
My sister needed help that none of us could give her, and while the sheikh had paid for everything, he had also made one thing abundantly clear.
She could never return to Layla, and a part of me ached at the thought.
Aretha was still my sister, the girl I had spent my childhood chasing after, desperate for a scrap of her attention.
I would always love her, and I would never stop praying that she would one day find it in her heart to love me back.
As for Royce, all the charges against him had been dropped.
Mik’hail had seen to it personally, and though I never learned the full details, I knew it had something to do with the evidence Ella and Khal had helped uncover during the letter scandal.
Lord Barton’s schemes had implicated far more people than anyone had anticipated, and in the end, Royce had been little more than a pawn.
He was in America now, living under a new name, building a new life.
I hoped he found peace there. I hoped he found someone who could love him the way he deserved to be loved.
The way Mik’hail loved me.
My chest tightened at the thought, and I opened my eyes to study my reflection once more.
The woman in the mirror was elegant, I supposed. The turquoise gown hugged my curves before cascading to the floor in waves of silk and chiffon. My hair had been swept into an intricate updo, threaded with tiny sapphires that caught the candlelight.
I looked like a queen...so why did I still feel like a fraud? I couldn’t help but feel like this was just me playing make believe, dressing like a queen when in reality I was—
A knock at the door scattered my thoughts.
“Come in,” I called, expecting one of the maids.
But it was Mik’hail who stepped through the doorway, and my toes instantly curled at the sight of the royal sheikh dressed so formally and dashingly.
How could this impossibly handsome man be my husband?
It just didn’t make sense. Aretha might have anger management issues, and okay, a serious case of narcissism as well, but Aretha was more suitable to be his wife in every other way while I was this ugly duckling—
The sheikh’s sigh cut my thoughts off. “There you go again.”
Huh?
He crossed the room in three strides and my pulse raced as he stood behind me, his hands settling on my shoulders as our eyes met in the mirror. “When will you see what I see?”
His exasperated tone had me laughing despite myself. How well he knew me, to have guessed right away that I was struggling with self-doubt even without me uttering a single word.
“You are perfect, Aurora.”
“I just...” I swallowed hard. “I don’t want to shame you tonight. Everyone will be watching, and I—”
“Everyone will be watching,” he agreed, “and every single one of them will fall in love with you the way I did.” His lips brushed the curve of my ear, and a shiver rocked my body. “They’ll love you. How could they not?”
“I’m just so nerv—”
He spun me around and kissed me.
It was not a gentle kiss.
His mouth claimed mine with a hunger that made my thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm. One hand curved around the back of my neck while the other gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I gasped into his mouth at the contact.
“Mik’hail,” I breathed, but he only kissed me deeper while sweeping me up in his arms, and before I knew it, my back had met the wall, and...oh...my...goodness.
The sheikh and I were almost late to our own party that evening, but his, um, kisses had been so wonderfully helpful, with how it left me starry-eyed, rosy-cheeked, and so helplessly in love with him that I was no longer crippled by anxiety as he introduced me to our guests.
After supper, we waltzed into the dance floor before an appreciative crowd, and as Mik’hail’s graceful expertise had me feeling like a ballerina in his arms, there was this tiny quiet part of my heart that was so overflowing with gratitude that I found myself closing my eyes for a moment—
Thank You for making my dream come true...even when I never had the courage to ask for it.
The End