Chapter Eight
The wedding was announced, and Birdie kept her head down, and stayed in her room at the palace. It wasn’t long before Elizabeth came to visit.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m as good as I can be. I’m furious at him.”
“And for good reason,” Elizabeth said.
Birdie sighed heavily, so aware of what she’d dragged poor Elizabeth into. “I’m glad that he didn’t fire you.”
“He wouldn’t. I’ve known him since he was a child.”
“Well, he’s acting in a fairly egregious manner. So who can say what he might do at this point.”
“True,” Elizabeth said. “You’re going to go ahead with the marriage?”
Birdie felt like there was glass ground into her heart. Every breath, every beat, was painful.
“I don’t have a choice. It isn’t about what I want, it’s about what’s best for my child.
He’s a king, Elizabeth. I can’t deny him what he wants.
If I don’t marry him then my child won’t ever be able to take the throne.
And that is his legacy. His right. Or her right.
It’s just that…he threatened me,” Birdie said, closing her eyes.
“He said that he would take the baby away from me. I know he would. And I can’t even be furious with him for that, because what choice would he have? ”
“To not be terrible?”
“Well, he’s dug the hole, hasn’t he?”
“That is remarkably insightful. And perhaps a bit too forgiving.”
“I don’t actually want to be forgiving. I just recognize that his options are limited.”
And so were hers. But she had been entirely present, and entirely willing the night they had sex.
She had disregarded any thoughts of contraception.
It was her fault too.
That was the reality of it. He hadn’t done it alone. And if he hadn’t behaved as he had in the aftermath, then this wedding would be a joyful thing.
“I’ll help you with your dress.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I really do appreciate it. He wants something discreet. Something that will disguise the pregnancy.”
“On your petite frame it won’t be that difficult. But, I question to what end.”
“Because then we’ll just have a baby and people will obviously talk, and speculate, but it is better than creating a shock wave because a pregnant bride is walking down the aisle of a royal wedding. In the grand tradition of heirs, you have to at least pretend.”
“You’re being alarmingly calm.”
Birdie laughed. “I’m not calm. Not at all.” She thought back to her father marrying Lady Tremaine. To his death. To her subsequent banishment to being little more than a servant in her own household. And then her taking a job at the palace.
“My life hasn’t been what I wanted it to be for a very long time. At least in this role, I’ll have some power. Some power to do good for the country. And more than that, my child will be taken care of.”
“I suppose you’re right about that.”
She was doing what she could. She was trying to have courage. She was doing the very best she could.
She lost herself in the details of all of it.
Through the little mundane things of every day.
That she got to rest a bit, instead of working from early in the morning to late at night.
That her stepmother wasn’t there to criticize her, to order her around.
That her stepsisters weren’t there to needle her.
She focused on her dress fitting, the details of the gown, the little things.
The way the fabric felt sliding over her skin, how luxurious it was.
The way that it felt to slide into her bed at night, with the most glorious sheets she’d ever felt in her life.
Everything about the present moment was nicer than the one she had come from.
Unless she thought about Onyx, so she didn’t.
She separated the moment, the luxury, from anything to do with him.
She thought only about the day. Every breath.
Every bite of glorious food that she had.
She didn’t dwell on the unpleasant things. She didn’t dwell on the uncertainty.
Because there was no point.
And it was the only way that she could stay sane.
Her heart had been broken incrementally.
First when he hadn’t recognized her, and then, it had begun to piece itself back together when she had gone to the ball, when he had looked at her as he had. Kissed her again.
But it had been shattered irrevocably with his distrust. And there was something galling about that too.
She was getting used to it. What it felt like to live without that feeling inside of her chest, which had been there from the moment she had first developed a crush on him when she’d started working for the palace.
She knew how to love him without hope.
And now she was learning to be with him without that love.
She would.
It was all just a process.
But no part of her life had ever fit her perfectly. So why should this be any different? There was an element of comfort here. With not having it all.
Yes. She could definitely get used to that.
Because she was strong, if nothing else.
Something else she had never really given herself credit for, because she had also felt soft and vulnerable. Because she’d had romantic hopes, and that made it feel like maybe she was fragile.
But no. With a broken heart, she still stood strong. And that said something about her.
By the time the wedding day rolled around, she was so used to counting every breath, feeling every moment, that it went by slowly, deliberately, and she felt no anxiety. The dress was put on, her hair and makeup done, and she didn’t think about what lay ahead.
She felt a fluttering in her stomach, put her hand on it and breathed as the baby moved within her.
That was what her life was made of. These little moments of luxury, this life growing within her.
There was beauty. As long as she looked at every moment, rather than the whole of it all.
The florist put a bouquet in her hands, brilliant lilies, all pink and grand, and she looked at those, took in the scent.
What a wonderful moment.
She was in a glorious dress; she had never looked more beautiful. She was holding a bouquet of beautiful flowers, and her baby was moving.
Whatever happened afterward didn’t matter. She focused on the small things. On the ring on her left hand, which Onyx hadn’t put there. It had been sent to her room, glorious and stunning. Indefinably lovely.
Beautiful.
There were so many beautiful things.
Even when your heart was broken.
She took a breath, and realized that she was outside the chapel on the palace grounds.
How beautiful. Ornate, carved stone. It was a lovely day. The sky was clear and blue, the sun high and warming. Everything was fine.
The smell of early spring, combined with her bouquet was intoxicating. Everything was fine.
She took a step into the chapel, and she focused on the stained glass. The lovely, carved wooden doors that separated her from the sanctuary.
Everything was just fine. There was nothing to be afraid of.
Nothing.
And then the doors opened, and she made the mistake of looking ahead.
Not at the flagstone floor, with its brilliant carving, but all the way down at the end of the long aisle, with every seat in the place full.
There was a priest. And there was Onyx. Severe in a dark suit, and staring at her.
She hadn’t seen him since that day he had informed her that the wedding would be taking place.
She hadn’t wanted to. She had just wanted to breathe, and be.
But suddenly it didn’t feel possible. Because he was looking at her. And she felt like she was going to shatter.
She tried to catch her breath, tried to be in the moment.
But she couldn’t ignore now that every step was taking her toward him.
And she couldn’t ignore the way that he affected her body, still.
She had been numb to it, ever since he had come to the house to fetch her.
She had been in a bubble the past few days. Or perhaps it was just shock.
Was that what the past few days had been? She had thought that it might be something like happiness. But no.
It had been denial. Denying exactly what was happening today. Doing her best not to think about it because it was the only thing that let her feel good.
Because it was the only thing that had made it feel like she could get through this.
Her legs were trembling now, and she thought that she might pass out. The way her gown flowed over her curves, it wasn’t impossible to see her stomach, and maybe everybody was looking at it. Maybe everybody was looking at it, and they knew.
That she had disregarded her own safety and sanity, and touched the king, a lowly servant who hadn’t any right to do that.
They would look like exactly what they were. A shotgun wedding. They would look like two people who had given into passion with no regard for anything else.
And while that had been a beautiful moment in time for her, it didn’t feel like it now. It felt scalding and embarrassing. It felt like the end of her.
It felt like dying.
Every breath now felt like it was closer to the last one she would ever take, and that felt perilously close to dying.
No. You’re not dying. You have a child to think of. You have a country to think of. And you have yourself to think of.
Whether it was denial or not, she had felt some form of happiness these past few days, and she would cling to that. She wasn’t meant to be miserable forever. Nobody was.
There was always hope. She wasn’t going to discard it now.
When she reached the head of the aisle, he extended his hand toward her, and her breath caught. He had touched her that day that he had taken her from her stepmother’s house. But it hadn’t been gentle. It hadn’t been like when they had touched that night in the study. This wouldn’t be either.
But it felt significant. Slowly, she let him take her hand. His own was large, calloused and strong. He wrapped it around her fingers, and held onto her tightly.
“Let us begin,” the priest said.