by C. T. Sloan
Julian and I enter the room. The staff of two hundred bow before their Prince. Julian walks into the middle of the human semicircle and returns the bow. The Prince looks at his staff and proclaims, “I would like you, my excellent and loyal staff, to know first. I have asked for the hand of Miss Amy Rousseau in marriage. And she said, ‘yes.’” The staff erupts in cheers which brings me to tears.
“Amy and myself will formalize the plans for the wedding which will then be passed along to you. A formal press release will be disseminated within the hour,” Julian says. The staff returns to work. I am so emotional right now that I can hardly stay on my own two feet. Julian suggests that we go to the courtyard and relax with a celebratory bottle of Champagne.
We sit down in the courtyard and enjoy a quiet time together. Soon after the press release is sent out, Julian shows me all of the media reactions on an iPad. Much to my surprise, all of the news is really positive about the engagement. There may have been one of two blogs who made a snarky comment about an “LA girl” marrying the “World’s Most Eligible Prince.” Otherwise, the press is genuinely happy for us.
Julian and I walk back into the Palace. The Head of Palace Security runs up to the Prince and says nervously, “Your Highness, we have about fifty-thousand people at the gates of the palace.”
Julian looks at me and say, “Let’s go give them a show.”
I don’t know what they means. Julian leads me up a set of stairs. “This is the way to the Grand Balcony of the Palace. This is where the Prince, or the Royal Couple, appears before the people.”
Now my heart is jumping out of my chest. As we reach the top of the stairs, I can hear the people calling out for us. The staff stand before a set of ten foot double doors. One of the servants puts a Royal Coat and Sash on Julian. My fiance winks at me and says, “Ready?
” I nod, “yes.”
The doors open. We walk out together. The crowd cheers. Julian waves. I wave. They wave back. Ten of thousands of hands wave back at us like good friends. Julian turns to me and says, “I love you, Amy.”
“I love you, Julian,” I say to my fiance.
We kiss. The crowd cheers, “Love live the Prince. Long live the Princess.”
Long live Mondorra.