Chapter 44 — The Wedding of the Princess
For several seconds after Amara said yes, neither of them moved.
The courtyard seemed to have become strangely quiet.
Thousands of people waited beyond the palace walls. Royal guests, diplomats, officers, members of both families, and representatives from distant lands filled every available place inside the ceremonial grounds.
But Amara saw only Alexander.
And Alexander saw only her.
The officiant cleared his throat.
“Your Highness. Captain.”
Alexander glanced toward him.
“Yes?”
A ripple of laughter moved through the guests.
Amara whispered, “You really did forget where you are.”
“I warned you I might.”
“No. My sister warned me.”
Alexander looked at her.
“Remind me to thank her.”
“I will not.”
The officiant attempted not to smile.
“May we begin?”
Amara nodded solemnly.
“You may.”
Alexander leaned closer.
“Very generous of you.”
“Captain.”
“Yes, Princess?”
“Behave.”
“I was about to tell you the same thing.”
They faced forward.
Behind Amara, King Adisa covered his mouth with one hand.
Queen Nalia whispered, “Do not laugh.”
“I am not laughing.”
“You are.”
“I am the King. I may laugh at my daughter's wedding.”
Nalia gave him a look.
Adisa immediately became serious.
Mostly.
The ceremony began with an old Azanian blessing.
The words had been spoken at royal weddings for generations.
Amara had heard them as a child without ever imagining that one day she would stand here while they were spoken for her.
The blessing called for courage in difficulty, patience in disagreement, loyalty in separation, and joy in companionship.
At the word patience, Kellan coughed loudly.
Alexander turned his head.
Kellan looked completely innocent.
Amara whispered, “He thinks you will need it.”
“I know.”
“He is correct.”
“I know that too.”
The ceremony continued.
Traditional drums sounded softly from the far end of the courtyard, joined by strings and horns from Alexander's world.
The two kinds of music should have competed.
Instead, they became one.
Amara noticed it.
So did Alexander.
Two worlds.
Again.
Beyond the palace, the capital had become a festival.
People crowded balconies, streets, rooftops, and public squares. Flowers hung from windows. Banners carrying the royal colors moved in the warm breeze.
Mounted guards lined the great avenue leading from the palace toward the harbor.
Horses wore ceremonial cloth embroidered in gold.
At the waterfront, ships from several nations rested at anchor.
Alexander had protested when he learned that naval vessels planned to fire a salute.
“How many guns?”
“Enough,” Kellan had told him.
“That is not a number.”
“It is a royal wedding.”
“That is also not a number.”
Amara had overheard the conversation.
“Are you frightened of a little noise, Captain?”
“No.”
“Excellent. Then there is no problem.”
There had been no further discussion.
Now the ships waited.
So did the city.
Everyone waited for the moment when Princess Amara of Azania became Alexander Whitmore's wife.
The officiant turned toward Alexander.
“Captain Alexander Whitmore.”
Alexander straightened.
“You stand before this woman, her family, your family, and the people gathered here by your own will?”
“I do.”
Amara raised an eyebrow.
The officiant noticed.
“Your Highness?”
“I am simply making certain.”
Alexander almost smiled.
The officiant continued.
“And you understand that marriage is not possession, command, or authority over another person, but a promise freely made between two people?”
Several members of Alexander's family suddenly became very interested in him.
Thomas lowered his head to hide a smile.
Kellan did not bother.
Alexander looked directly at Amara.
“I understand that exceptionally well.”
Laughter spread through the courtyard.
Amara smiled sweetly.
“He has received considerable instruction on the subject.”
“Amara,” her mother warned quietly.
“What? It is true.”
Alexander squeezed her fingers.
“It is very true.”
The laughter became louder.
Even the officiant surrendered and smiled.
Then he turned toward Amara.
“Princess Amara.”
“Yes.”
“You stand before this man by your own will?”
The question was simple.
But something inside Amara became still.
By your own will.
Once, strangers had taken that from her.
They had chosen the road.
The ship.
The room.
The price.
They had spoken around her as though her will did not exist.
And now, before thousands of witnesses, someone was asking her what she wanted.
Amara looked at Alexander.
“Yes,” she said.
Her voice was clear.
“Entirely by my own will.”
Alexander's expression changed.
He understood.
Her father understood too.
So did her mother.
Nalia's eyes filled with tears.
Amara saw them and immediately pointed a warning finger.
“Mother.”
The guests laughed again.
Nalia wiped her eyes.
“I am allowed.”
“Not yet.”
“When?”
“Later.”
“I make no promises.”
The vows came next.
Alexander went first.
He had refused to allow anyone else to write them.
This had worried Thomas considerably.
Now Alexander took both of Amara's hands.
For once, there was no teasing in his expression.
“Amara, when I first met you, I believed I understood courage.”
She watched him quietly.
“I had seen soldiers fight. I had seen men face storms, weapons, and death. I thought courage was something loud.”
His thumb moved gently across her fingers.
“Then I met you.”
The courtyard became silent.
“You were frightened, surrounded by strangers, far from everything you knew, and still you looked at me as though I were the one who should be worried.”
A few people laughed softly.
Amara's eyes began to shine.
“You argued with me.”
“Frequently,” she whispered.
“Constantly.”
More laughter.
Alexander smiled.
“And somewhere between the arguments, the danger, the running, the fighting, and your repeated attempts to destroy my patience, I discovered that courage can also be one person refusing to surrender herself.”
Amara stopped smiling.
Alexander continued.
“I cannot promise you a life without danger.”
“Good,” she murmured.
“I cannot promise we will never argue.”
“That would be a ridiculous promise.”
“I cannot even promise that I will never give you an order again.”
Amara narrowed her eyes.
Alexander quickly added, “By accident.”
The courtyard erupted.
Amara laughed through the tears gathering in her eyes.
Alexander raised her hand and kissed it.
“But I promise that I will never mistake love for ownership.”
The laughter disappeared.
“I will stand beside you when you need strength. I will step back when you need freedom. I will listen when you speak, even when I disagree.”
Amara whispered, “Especially then.”
“Especially then.”
He smiled.
“I will protect our home, our family, and the life we choose together. And for as long as I live, I will remember the most important lesson you ever taught me.”
Amara looked at him.
“What lesson?”
Alexander smiled.
“That you are perfectly capable of saying no.”
The guests laughed and applauded.
Amara shook her head.
“You had to put that in the vows?”
“Yes.”
“Idiot.”
“I love you too.”
Then it was Amara's turn.
She looked down at their joined hands.
For the first time that day, she seemed uncertain.
Alexander noticed immediately.
“You don't have to—”
“I know.”
She took a breath.
Then she looked at him.
“Alexander, when I first met you, I disliked you.”
Thomas made a choking sound.
Alexander closed his eyes.
“Wonderful beginning.”
The crowd laughed.
Amara continued.
“You were arrogant.”
“I was a captain.”
“That is not a defense.”
“No, Princess.”
“You expected people to obey you.”
“I was accustomed to it.”
“And then you met me.”
“Yes.”
“And your life became much more difficult.”
“Immeasurably.”
Amara smiled.
“But you listened.”
Alexander's amusement faded.
“Not immediately.”
“No. Definitely not immediately.”
She squeezed his hands.
“But eventually you did.”
Her voice softened.
“You saw me when other people saw something they could own. You heard me when other people wanted me silent. You protected me without asking me to become smaller so that you could feel stronger.”
Alexander stared at her.
“And when I needed to go home, you helped me return even though you did not know whether there would be a place for you in the life waiting for me.”
Amara's voice trembled slightly.
“There is.”
Alexander swallowed.
“There always will be.”
Now Elizabeth was crying.
Thomas was pretending not to.
Kellan had stopped smiling entirely.
Even King Adisa looked away for a moment.
Amara continued.
“I promise to love you.”
Alexander smiled.
“I promise to stand beside you.”
His fingers tightened around hers.
“I promise to tell you when you are wrong.”
“That was never in doubt.”
“And I promise that when you are right—”
Alexander waited.
“Yes?”
Amara paused dramatically.
“I will consider admitting it.”
The courtyard exploded with laughter.
Alexander stared at her.
“That is the best I receive?”
“It is an enormous concession.”
“Apparently.”
She leaned closer.
“And I promise something else.”
“What?”
“That whatever comes next, we choose it together.”
Alexander's smile disappeared.
He understood the weight of those words.
Together.
Not commanded.
Not purchased.
Not forced.
Chosen.
“Yes,” he said.
“Together.”
The rings were brought forward by Amara's younger brother, who looked so serious that Amara nearly laughed.
He presented the small ceremonial box.
Alexander took Amara's ring.
For the first time all day, his hands were visibly shaking.
Amara noticed.
“Captain.”
“Yes?”
“You are nervous.”
“No.”
“Your hands disagree.”
Alexander looked at her.
“You remembered that?”
“I remember everything useful.”
He slid the ring onto her finger.
It fit perfectly.
Amara looked down at it.
A simple band of gold with a small line of blue stones matching the necklace her mother had placed around her neck.
Then Amara took Alexander's ring.
She held it for a moment.
“Last opportunity to escape.”
Alexander smiled.
“Not interested.”
“You are certain?”
“Completely.”
She placed the ring on his finger.
“Then you are trapped.”
“By choice.”
Amara looked up.
Exactly.
The officiant raised his hands.