Chapter 43 — The Dress
Amara had faced armed men with less fear than she felt standing in the center of her dressing room on the morning of her wedding.
“Do not move,” Queen Nalia said.
“I am not moving.”
“You moved.”
“I breathed.”
Her mother gave her a look.
Around them, several women made final adjustments to the gown.
It had been designed to combine two worlds.
The shape followed elegant European bridal fashion, but the fabric, embroidery, and jewels belonged unmistakably to Azania.
Ivory silk flowed into a long skirt, while fine gold patterns from the royal family’s traditional designs covered the bodice and edges of the train.
Amara had refused an enormous train.
Her mother had wanted one.
Her grandmother had wanted an even larger one.
Amara had threatened to cut it herself.
The argument had ended quickly after that.
Now the gown was finished.
Amara looked into the mirror.
For once, she had no complaint.
“It is beautiful,” she admitted.
Nalia smiled. “I intend to remember that sentence.”
“Do not become accustomed to it.”
Her sister laughed from across the room.
Then Nalia opened a velvet box.
Inside lay a magnificent necklace of gold, diamonds, and deep blue stones.
Amara recognized it immediately.
“Mother.”
“It belonged to my grandmother.”
“I know.”
“And today you wear it.”
Amara touched the necklace carefully.
“This should remain with you.”
“It will. Tomorrow.”
Her mother fastened it around her neck.
Another box appeared.
Amara groaned.
“How much jewelry are you planning to put on me?”
“As much as necessary.”
“Necessary for what?”
“To remind everyone that you are my daughter.”
Amara smiled.
The earrings had belonged to another generation of royal women. Her grandmother added a bracelet. Each piece carried a story.
For the first time that morning, Amara became quiet.
The dress was no longer simply beautiful.
It connected her to women who had stood in this palace before her.
Her mother noticed the change in her expression.
“What are you thinking?”
“About how much happened before I came back.”
Nalia touched her shoulder.
“But you did come back.”
“Yes.”
That was what mattered.
Her younger sister entered and stopped immediately.
“Amara.”
“What?”
She continued staring.
“That bad?”
Her sister began crying.
“Oh, no.”
Amara pointed at her.
“Absolutely not. If you start, Mother starts.”
“I already started,” Nalia said.
Amara turned.
Her mother’s eyes were wet.
“This family is impossible.”
Her sister embraced her carefully.
“You look incredible.”
Amara smiled.
“Thank you.”
“Alexander is going to forget his own name.”
That improved her mood considerably.
“I hope so.”
Across the palace, Alexander was having his own problems.
Thomas adjusted his formal jacket.
“Stop touching me.”
“It is crooked.”
“It was straight before you touched it.”
Kellan entered and examined him.
“You look acceptable.”
Alexander stared.
“Acceptable?”
“For you, that is excellent.”
Thomas laughed.
Alexander turned toward the mirror.
He wore formal clothing influenced by his military background, with ceremonial details chosen for the royal wedding.
He looked calm.
He was not.
Kellan noticed.
“Nervous?”
“No.”
“Your hands disagree.”
Alexander looked down.
They did.
He closed them.
“I have survived worse situations.”
“Pirates?”
“Yes.”
“Rourke?”
“Yes.”
“My father?”
“Barely.”
Kellan smiled.
“And now you must survive Amara in a wedding dress.”
Alexander looked toward the door.
“That may be the most dangerous.”
Back in her rooms, Amara faced the final battle.
The ceremonial headpiece.
She looked at it.
“No.”
Her mother sighed.
“Amara.”
“It is enormous.”
“It is traditional.”
“It may break my neck.”
Her grandmother said something sharply.
Amara looked at Nalia.
“What did she say?”
“That princesses need strong necks.”
Amara stared at both women.
Then laughed.
“Fine.”
The headpiece was placed carefully over her hair.
When Amara looked into the mirror again, she became still.
Now she saw the complete image.
Not the young woman who had left the palace months earlier.
Not the captive who had crossed the ocean.
Not the woman men had tried to sell.
Something new.
A woman who had survived all of it and returned by choice.
The gown carried her traditions.
The shape reflected another world.
The jewels carried her family’s history.
But the woman wearing them belonged only to herself.
That was the most important part.
Music began somewhere beyond the rooms.
Amara’s heart immediately started beating faster.
Her sister smiled.
“Nervous?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Extremely.”
Everyone laughed.
An attendant appeared.
“Your Royal Highness. It is time.”
Amara took one slow breath.
“Let’s go.”
The great courtyard had been transformed.
Flowers surrounded the ceremonial space. Members of both families filled the front rows. Beyond them sat diplomats, officers, officials, and invited guests.
Alexander stood waiting beside Thomas and Kellan.
Then the music changed.
Everyone rose.
The doors opened.
Amara appeared beside her father.
Alexander forgot to breathe.
Sunlight caught the gold woven through her dress. The jewels at her neck and wrists sparkled, but he barely noticed them.
He looked only at her.
Amara saw his expression.
She immediately knew her sister had been right.
Alexander had nearly forgotten his own name.
That pleased her enormously.
They walked slowly toward him.
When they reached the front, Adisa looked at Alexander.
Alexander still seemed stunned.
Amara whispered, “Captain?”
He blinked.
“Yes?”
“Are you all right?”
“No.”
She smiled.
“Excellent.”
The King heard them.
“Are you two going to behave during any part of this ceremony?”
“Probably not,” Amara said.
Alexander finally recovered enough to smile.
Adisa shook his head.
Then his expression softened.
He kissed his daughter’s forehead.
For a moment Amara was a child again.
She squeezed his hand.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Adisa did not announce that he was giving his daughter away.
Instead, he placed Amara’s hand into Alexander’s.
“She chose you.”
Alexander looked at Amara.
“I know.”
“That is all that matters.”
The King stepped away.
Alexander looked at the necklace.
“Family?”
“Yes.”
“The earrings?”
“Family.”
“The bracelet?”
“Family.”
He glanced toward the headpiece.
Amara immediately said, “Do not ask.”
“Understood.”
She almost laughed.
The officiant gave them a warning look.
They became serious.
At least temporarily.
Amara looked around once more.
Her parents.
Her brothers and sisters.
Alexander’s family.
Two worlds that should never have met and now stood together at her wedding.
Months earlier, strangers had decided where she would go and what she would become.
Today every step had been her own.
Alexander squeezed her hand.
“Ready?”
Amara looked into his eyes.
“Yes.”
This time the word came easily.
No fear.
No hesitation.
Only choice.