30. Cataleya
Even before I open my eyes, I feel his hand in mine. It’s warm, comforting, and I get the feeling he’s probably been sitting there for a long time.
“Hey,” I say softly as I open my eyes to the stark white of the hospital room. I blink away the grogginess of the general anesthetic, letting my eyes focus on Christian’s face beside me.
“Hey,” he replies with a relieved smile. “How are you feeling?”
I try to sit up a little, trying to understand what happened. I vaguely remember someone putting a mask over my face, telling me to count backwards from ten. I think I only got to eight before I blacked out.
“What happened?” I ask, suddenly feeling the pain in my leg afresh.
I remember the tree, I remember the ambulance, but beyond that, not much. The pain makes me wince, and Christian leans forward to settle me. His touch calms me for a moment, even makes the pain ebb slightly.
“They had to remove a stick from your leg,” he tells me. “It was only small, which is why no one noticed it until we got you back here. It seems like you also suffered a mild concussion when you hit the ground. The doctors told me you’re okay now, but you have to stay here for a few more days for observation.”
The news comes as a shock, but as I look at Christian’s face, I realize how tired he looks.
“Have you been here the whole time?” I ask, wondering how long I’ve actually been here.
He nods slightly, squeezing my hand again. “Of course,” he says.
A strange look comes over his face, and even though I don’t know what it means, my heart races a little. There seems to be a shift in the atmosphere and when Christian looks up again, there’s sincerity in his eyes.
“Cataleya,” he says seriously. “I need to tell you something, something I should have said much, much earlier. I know this goes against everything we agreed, but I can’t keep hiding how I feel.”
My heart races even faster as I realize what he’s about to say.
“I’ve fallen completely in love with you,” he admits, looking deep into my eyes.
The words completely overwhelm me, washing away every trace of doubt, every fear, every question about what all this means.
“I love you, too,” I choke out, tears beginning to well in my eyes.
Christian moves closer, and I can feel the connection between us, almost like a jolt of electricity suddenly bringing us both to life.
When our lips meet in a loving kiss, I feel everything else melt away, until it’s only me and Christian. Nothing else exists for that moment. My whole body responds to him, and I feel a wave of joy, of love, wash over me. It’s the most healing thing I could possibly think of.
This is what it’s like for the next few days. Moments of bliss every time we touch, with Christian hardly leaving my side. It’s like we’ve started our relationship afresh, and really, we have. This is no longer a political arrangement. It’s a true partnership.
“So, what do you think about the royal gardens?” he asks a couple of days after I wake up.
I can feel the heat rise to my face as soon as he says it, but I’m not sure what the question means exactly. Is he referring to that night? Or something else entirely?
He must see the look of confusion and embarrassment on my face because he quickly corrects himself.
“I mean for the wedding. We need to find an alternative venue and I just thought… Well, I guess I kind of count that as our first date. In a way.”
I’m not sure whether to laugh or kiss him, but there’s something else that wins out.
“Do you really think we should go ahead with the wedding?” I ask, frowning. “I mean, with the fires…”
Christian nods, folding his hands over mine.
“I understand,” he says, meeting my eyes with a look of pride and compassion. “I know it seems insensitive, but there’s another way to look at it. The fires have been put out, the evacuated people have been given shelter, and the villages are being cleaned up. We’ve given ample support. There’s nothing more we can do there on a practical level.”
His words give me some reassurance, but he’s not done.
“On an emotional level, though, the people need hope,” he tells me. “They need to know that their future Queen hasn’t been cowed by the tragedy. Being a monarch means taking care of our people—mourning with them, yes, but also celebrating with them. If you show them that there’s still a future full of hope ahead, it can inspire hope that they’ll overcome, too.”
The look in Christian’s eyes tells me he’s thought long and hard about this. It’s not something he’s suggesting lightly, and the more I let his words sink in, the more I see they’re true.
“I want to serve my people,” I tell him, and the words feel less and less foreign every time I say them. “In fact, what if we make the wedding something everyone can enjoy?”
“What do you have in mind?” Christian asks, a smile forming on his face.
“How about a holiday for the whole country?” I suggest. “And we could have the ceremony on the steps of the castle. The city square could be open to the public to come and watch. I know it’s not as intimate as we imagined, but we could make it work, couldn’t we? The reception could still be private inside the castle. Or maybe in the gardens.”
The smile that started out small has crept over Christian’s face. By the time I’m done, he’s beaming.
“That sounds perfect,” he tells me, before leaning in for a kiss. “I’ll make some calls.”
I can imagine it all playing out in my mind, and for the first time since the fires, I allow myself to dream about our wedding again. The memory of my wedding dress fitting flashes in my mind and I can already imagine the look on Christian’s face when he sees me in it.
It’s a completely different feeling to the original ceremony we had, and I begin to get excited about this new plan. Maybe even more than the original one. Because this time, I’m approaching it not just as a bride but as a future Queen.
By the time I’m discharged a few days later, Christian has organized the bulk of our new wedding plan. Not only that, he’s organized the castle into my own private wellness retreat, with assistants and staff waiting on me hand and foot.
“Now you’re not going to move a muscle for the rest of the week,” he tells me, helping me onto the bed that he’s loaded with pillows and cushions.
“Christian!” I complain, laughing. “I’m not that injured. I can do some things for myself.”
“Don’t even try it,” he warns, though he does it with a smile on his face. “I have a whole fleet of people to help you, not to mention myself. Whatever you need, just tell me, and we’ll take care of it.”
He gives me a look of mock-warning, but I can tell he really means it. Not only that, I can tell he”s actually deriving pleasure from taking care of me, and I decide not to fight it. I do need the rest, after all.
“Okay,” I acquiesce with a laugh. “If you insist.”
“I do. Now, is there anything you want right now?” he asks sweetly, taking my hand.
I think about it for a moment, but all I want is him.
“I want you to come and cuddle with me,” I tell him, patting the bed beside me.
Christian grins, settling onto the mattress. The warmth of his body next to mine feels so good, especially after those lonely nights in the hospital bed.
“You feel wonderful,” I tell him, nuzzling into his chest.
“I can’t wait to marry you,” he says. “Again.”
The two of us laugh and when he turns his head to look at me, I feel the overwhelming urge to kiss him. I press my lips softly into his and everything feels right. Finally, everything feels right.