Chapter Twenty-eight
Sadie
I stared at the wedding dress my mother had delivered to my chambers. I’d had no say in its design, but of course I hadn’t. I’d had no say in getting married to a man I didn’t love either. I’d had no say in the future to which I was about to subject myself.
I’d had no say.
It turned out that my welcome back dinner had been held at an ungodly hour yesterday morning.
When Cian had announced we’d be getting married tomorrow, he’d meant in the evening of the following day.
The entire palace had shifted into autopilot with wedding preparations while I’d stayed in my chambers with Orla and Fionn trying desperately to cheer me up.
“Cian will probably be too busy trying to get your father to put him in charge of important things,” Fionn had said. “He won’t have time to make your life miserable.”
“Yes,” Orla had agreed. “You probably won’t have to see him much.”
While that was encouraging, I feared what Cian would do with any power my father gave him.
Orla had offered to do my hair for the wedding, so I’d let her while Fionn supervised and did his best to keep me from completely falling apart. I kept reminding myself to breathe, but mindfulness and forced, arranged marriage didn’t mesh.
Laoise and the other ladies bustled into my chambers now, ready to bundle me into this hideously pretentious wedding dress and seal my unfortunate fate.
What’s Beckett doing right now?
I hadn’t expected to hear from him. Why would I?
To him, I’d vanished into thin air and because he didn’t know who I really was, how would he find me?
Being a secret princess who got dragged back to her country to marry a jerk was a ridiculous tale.
Even if Beckett somehow found that out, he’d zoom in on the lying I’d done.
The unforgivable lying.
I had to face the facts and accept that I was not a romance novel heroine. I was not going to get a happily ever after in a lovely small town with my soulmate.
Instead, I’d be chained to someone determined to use me as a gateway to power. I wished I’d never gone to Vermont in a way. Then I would never have known what it was like to be free, to live on my own, to start a business, to make friends.
To fall in love. Truly in love. With a wonderful man who made life fun and joyful and a tremendous adventure.
And I longed for the small things too. Mrs. Hartley’s gingerbread cookie recipe. Hank’s Papa Bear hugs. A leisurely stroll around Slater’s Pond. A meal shared around a table full of incredible people at Hartley’s Nest.
Holding hands with Beckett.
More than holding hands with Beckett.
Thinking about more than holding hands made me worry over what Cian’s expectations were for tonight. After the wedding. When we were officially husband and wife.
Could I fake it again now that I’d sampled a true connection with Beckett?
“Your Highness?” Laoise’s voice paused me in my downward spiral. She and two other ladies held the dress in position for me to put it on.
“Sorry.” I wasn’t sure how long they’d been waiting for me. I stepped into the wide circle of the dress, allowing the ladies to slide it up my legs, over my hips, and up my torso. When the dress rested on my shoulders, its heaviness felt like chains.
Laoise shuffled behind me and began the arduous task of buttoning a million tiny pearl buttons on the back of the dress.
The lace on the sleeves and at the neck were itchy. The bodice was tight around my ribs, making it hard to breathe.
Or was there another reason for that?
Another lady brought over a pair of shoes, bending before me to slip them onto my feet. The heels were too high and my toes were pinched. I instantly wished for my feet to be bare and on my yoga mat as I led a client in a vinyasa sequence.
“If you’ll have a seat, Your Highness,” Laoise said, “we can get this crown in place.”
Another lady carried a velvet cushion. A crown rested atop it. I didn’t recognize it so it had been specially commissioned for the wedding. Silver with an array of rubies set into it, the spiked-peaks design of it reminded me of daggers and the jewels resembled drops of blood.
Fitting because today felt like the murder of the person I could have been.
I lowered onto the seat in front of the vanity table in my room. Laoise lifted the crown from the cushion, her movements slow and careful while the words drop it cycled around in my mind. Seeing it shattered on the floor would have brought me such joy.
Alas, Laoise didn’t drop it. She successfully positioned it on my head, nestling it in the curls Orla had pinned atop my skull. A long, swath of gauzy fabric was attached with a comb to the back of my hair so it trailed behind me and blended in with the train of the dress.
“You look stunning, Your Highness,” Laoise said with the other ladies nodding their agreement.
“Thank you.”
Laoise’s brows lifted. “But, if I may speak frankly?”
“Always.” I turned from the mirror to face her and the others.
“The sadness in your heart is reflected in your eyes,” she said. “I know this is not a marriage you would have chosen, but if you . . .” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. “If you wish to stay on your groom’s good side, you’ll have to mask that.”
I nodded slowly. She was right, of course. Cian was all about appearances and if I didn’t play the part in front of the hundreds of people gathered in the royal cathedral, he’d be angry, as would my father.
My mother, I suspected, would be indifferent as always.
“Thank you for the wise counsel, Laoise,” I said. “I shall do my best to sell myself as the blushing bride.”
She offered me a sympathetic pat on the arm before handing me a bouquet of red and white roses with silvery leaves woven into it.
Would my behavior today also affect these ladies in waiting?
If Cian and my parents had indeed chosen some of them to be spies, would they be punished if they didn’t get me to perform?
I didn’t like that their fate might be tied to mine, especially because some of them, like Laoise, seemed genuinely concerned about me.
The walk to the cathedral was too short. We arrived before I was ready. Not that I’d ever be ready to marry Cian. To accept this horrid duty to my family and country.
To doom myself to a life without love.
Two royal guards opened the doors of the cathedral and hundreds of guests turned to look my way.
While their gazes bored into me, I kept my own eyes trained on the altar that was both miles away and far too close.
My parents sat in their thrones while Cian stood before them, facing me.
He was dressed in royal garb, a sash with the crest of Verdalach across his chest, announcing he was part of the governing family of the country.
My sister popped into my head as I stood frozen in my spot outside the cathedral. She’d wanted this duty. Had been ready to accept it. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why.
Music started. Slow organ music that sounded melancholy to me. My brain screamed at me to run, but my legs were traitors and propelled me forward into the cathedral.
The onlookers clearly approved of the pageantry, their smiles wide as I passed by them. Would they be this happy once Cian expanded his role in government? Doubtful.
As I neared the altar, Cian’s victorious smirk made my stomach twist. He resembled a dark lord villain in a video game Beckett and I had played together. That game had ended with the good characters prevailing.
Too bad real life wouldn’t turn out the same.
I stepped up onto the altar and took my place in front of my parents and next to Cian.
A quick glance to the first pew let me know my request to have Orla and Fionn attend the wedding as my guests had been granted.
At least my parents and husband-to-be had given in to some of my demands.
Unfortunately, that agreement would cost me something in the future. I was sure of it.
Orla’s hands were clasped tightly and resting on the pew’s front while Fionn stood stoically beside his sister. Both of them gave me compassionate eyes and I mustered up a smile for them both that I hoped was reassuring.
A priest strode between my parents’ thrones and came to stand before Cian and me.
I handed my bouquet to a waiting lady and let Cian take my hands.
His fingers were long and slender, his palms smooth and untouched by real work.
Despite Beckett’s role at Hartley’s Nest being more office-based, his hands had been as rugged as his brothers’ hands.
He’d explained that the Hartley brothers all had hands like their late father’s and that although he didn’t fancy the work his brothers did, he always helped out when needed.
Because that was the kind of man Beckett Hartley was. Kind, helpful, empathetic toward others.
Not at all like the man holding my hands right now.
“We are gathered here today . . .” The priest’s voice got lost while I closed my eyes and imagined Beckett across from me instead.
We hadn’t known each other long—and he hadn’t known my real identity—but a blissful warmth, a soul-deep rightness, washed over me at the idea of spending my life married to Beckett.
A sob threatened to escape from my throat over the fact that Beckett would never be mine and I’d never be his and he’d never know how much I loved him. Fortunately, I choked that cry back, tamped it down, forbidding it to release. No one here today wanted to see a bawling bride.
They wanted the flashy show.
“Your Highness.”
I opened my eyes to find Cian scowling at me. The priest and my parents didn’t look much happier. What the hell did they have to be irritated about? They weren’t the ones being coerced into a life they didn’t want.
“I believe your line is I do,” Cian said.