10. Malakai
Malakai
The cathedral is full. A gaggle of paparazzi wait outside. Getting out of here it’s going to be a goddamn nightmare.
Every member of my council is looking at me as though they’re attending my public execution instead of my marriage.
My eldest son hasn’t spoken to me in hours. I’ll deal with Kenton later. Right now, frankly, I consider that a blessing. I tug impatiently at the ceremonial robes one of my advisors insisted I wear.
“It is traditional Enovar garb, Your Majesty.”
“Traditionally, I wear a military uniform.” That’s what I wore for my first wedding.
“With respect, sir, you need all the public goodwill you can get. Honoring our culture will help spin this as beneficial to the people.”
Fuck the people. This is my life. I have given decades of it in public service. The one time I’m selfishly choosing a woman who makes me happy, and the world acts like it’s coming to an end.
Another advisor pokes his head in and says, “We’re ready.”
“Good.” I immediately stride toward the sanctuary.
“Wait.” My councilor’s hand on my arm stops me. I brush him off irritably.
“The bride isn’t ready.”
“So?”
He blinks at me. “...So...the groom waits.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s how weddings work. You cannot get married unless the bride is ready.”
“What’s keeping her?”
“She got a phone call about twenty minutes ago. A friend trying to talk her out of marrying you. At least trying to get her to wait a few days.”
“Absolutely not.” It had better not be that Julian prick again. I crash through the door and find Liliviere talking into her phone.
“I have to go,” she says. I yank the device from her unresisting hand. Sure enough, it’s the assistant.
“Whether you like it or not, this wedding is happening. Now. Try to interfere again, and I will personally kick your balls up between your teeth. Got it?” I close the connection.
“Mal, he wasn’t—”
I grab her by the wrist and drag her out to the aisle where her grandfather is waiting. Can the old man manage to walk thirty feet of red carpet? I tuck Liliviere’s hand into his elbow and pat it. “I don’t care if you have to carry him. Meet me at that altar.”
With the organ’s chords swelling, I stride to the front of the cathedral. Every head turns toward me. When I get to the ornately decorated nave, I turn back to watch my bride, adopt a wide stance, and wait.
It takes them for fucking ever to walk down together. The king insisted upon giving his granddaughter away. I wish I had pushed back because their progress is excruciatingly slow.
I curb my temper and try to look on the bright side.
Their shuffle gives me a chance to really study my beautiful bride.
When the light from an upper window hits her veil, I forget how breathing works.
White silk spills around her like moonlight.
Tiny pearls shimmer along the edges of her veil.
Her blond hair has been twisted into an elaborate knot beneath the diamond crown of Kellimar.
My wife is stunning.
Someone nudges my elbow. Zarek, my youngest son. The person who dragged him out of whatever love nest he was cozied up in and put a suit on him deserves hazard pay. Both boys are standing beside me in a show of public unity. At least they have learned something about leadership under my tutelage.
“I can see why you stole her away from Kenton.” He winks. “I might’ve been tempted to do the same thing.”
I grunt, and, with the final straw of my patience snapping, I marched halfway down the aisle to meet them. Gasps echo through the cathedral.
“Majesty, you are supposed to wait for her at the front!” my assistant hisses. “The bride walks to the groom, not the other way around.”
“They were moving too slow. She’s taking too long.” How fucking hard is it to get a wedding ceremony over with, anyway?
Lili laughs. She bends and whispers something to her grandfather, then helps him into the nearest pew and takes my arm. “I’m supposed to make an entrance,” she says.
“You already did. Ten more feet won’t matter. I have waited long enough.”
“You waited less than three minutes.”
“I’ve waited hours,” I contradict her. “I am not a patient man.”
We reach the altar and kneel before the bishop. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to bless the union of Emperor Malakai of Enovar and Princess Liliviere of Kellimar—”
“Get to the point.” I snap my fingers and indicate that he needs to hurry things along. The jowly old man stares at me in shock.
“What do you mean, Your Majesty?”
“The ‘I do’ part. Just skip ahead.”
“I will not demean this most holy and important ceremony,” he says gravely. I want to punch him in his ruddy nose. He begins again. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two public figures—”
I groan audibly. Liliviere struggles to contain her giggles.
“This would proceed faster if you would stop interrupting,” the bishop chides us both. “Do you want this done the right way, or not?”
“I just want it done. Fast.”
Laughter ripples through the crowd behind us. I grit my teeth and suffer through the next fifteen minutes of admonitions, lecturing, and moralizing before he gets to the promising part. “Repeat after me. I, Malakai…”
Easy.
“Promise to love, honor, and cherish…”
Naturally. Obviously. Always.
“…and forsaking all others…”
“I have been doing that for the past ten years.”
Liliviere elbows me in the ribs. “Just say it, Malakai, or we’ll be here all night.”
“Forsaking all others.”
The rest of the vows are mercifully short.
When it’s her turn, I’m surprised how much emotional impact her promises have on me.
I’m not a weeper by any means, but tears glisten in my eyes, hearing her promise to pledge herself to me in sickness and in health, forever and ever, until death do us part.
That last bit sends a wave of worry cascading through me. My last wife died. We were parted. Permanently. I was devastated. It took me a very long time to get over it. I won’t let the same thing happen to Lili.
The bishop blesses the rings, and I slide mine onto her finger. The golden circle set with diamonds. Looks like it always belonged there. “I now pronounce you—”
I don’t wait for him to finish. I pull Lili close to me and crash my lips down on hers.
Somewhere behind me Kenton mutters, “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
I grin against my wife’s mouth.
Finally.
Mine.
The bishop coughs. “I wasn’t finished speaking.”
“Don’t care. We’re done here.” I bend, picking up my bride, and stride away. Her fluffy skirt billows around us like a cloud. Thunderous applause breaks out. In the vestibule, I set her on her feet. I slip my hand into my pocket to make sure the pistol I have hidden is at the ready.
Is it sacrilegious to carry a gun to your own wedding? Probably, but I don’t give a flying fuck. Nobody touches my bride but me.
We have good security here at the palace and this cathedral, but outside is another matter. When the cathedral doors part, paparazzi press in from all sides. Camera flashes explode, blinding us.
“Liliviere! Over here!”
“Your Majesty!”
“Princess!”
“Did you steal your son’s fiancée?”
“How does Prince Kenton feel?”
Reporters surge forward, shoving microphones toward us. Lili flinches, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the barrage of flashes. Instantly, I step between her and the crowd.
Not one of these bastards should be anywhere near my woman. I wrap one arm around her shoulders and begin carving a path through the mob.
“Get back,” I snarl. The word comes out low enough that the nearest photographers actually recoil. But then they press forward again, so I take out my gun, point it in the air, and fire off a round.
That sends the paps running.
“Malakai!” Lili gasps, wide-eyed. “What are you doing?”
“Getting you out of here.” I pull her down the steps. At the car, I yank the door open and practically shove her inside, sitting on her skirt as I throw myself in after her.
“My hero,” she sighs as we speed away from the church.