by Nikki Chase
The prince pulls out a small box lined with blue velvet, making it apparent why he’s invited me on this hot air balloon ride.
When he opens the box, I see a ring lodged inside, with a big stone the deep blue color of Prince James’ eyes. The oval sapphire in the center is surrounded by a few smaller diamonds. The light hits the ring just right, making it glitter as it basks in the warm rays of the sun.
“Rosemary Wilson, will you marry me?” the prince asks, gazing at me with tenderness and anxiety in his eyes.
My mouth hangs open.
Of course I know that if things were to go smoothly with the prince, we’d eventually get married. But I didn’t think it was going to happen this quickly. I thought there was still a lot of time before I had to start worrying about things like… becoming the queen someday.
I have so many questions… Like, will the royal family accept me? What will the people say? What do I tell my father and my sisters? Will we have to admit our kinks to the whole kingdom?
But despite all those thoughts swirling in my mind, all that comes out of my mouth is… “Yes.”
“Yes?” Prince James asks as his worried frown is replaced by a joyful smile.
“Yes! Of course!” I exclaim, pulling him up into a big hug.
“I love you.” The prince glances down as he slides the ring onto my finger, then he fixes his intense gaze on me. “You’ve made me the happiest man in the world, and I promise I’ll make you happy.”
“I love you.” I smile as I look up into his dazzling blue eyes, the eyes that I’ll gaze into every day for the rest of my life.
Rosemary
The lights from the cameras are almost blinding.
I expected this, of course. But judging by how fast my heart is beating, I can’t say that I’m 100% prepared for it.
Since I accepted Prince James’ proposal on the hot air balloon ride, everything has been moving at lightning speed. It has only been a week, but the news has already begun to spread and now we’re sitting in front of rows of journalists, giving an official statement.
I know now why he took his time telling me about his feelings—because once we decide to make things official, everyone and their grandmother is interested in us.
“I can’t even begin to express how happy I am that Rosemary has accepted my proposal, and how excited I am for our future,” James says into about twenty microphones propped up on the table.
That’s the last sentence of the written statement that has been prepared by the palace’s press secretary, and now it’s time for the press to ask questions.
My fiancé, the crown prince, looks as handsome and powerful as he always has. There’s not a crease in his designer suit today, and I’ve also dressed up for this announcement.
A stylist and the press secretary came to us with a few dresses to choose from this morning. James picked the yellow one for me, because he said it reminded him of the first time he’d seen me at The Dungeon. It was really sweet of him to remember.
Despite his outer calm, the prince holds my hand a little tighter than usual. It’s the only indication that he’s nervous about the questions they’ll soon ask him.
We’ve gone through all the important ones, but we need to make sure that we send the right message if we ever expect to get accepted by the people. We have a big scandal and a few bald-faced lies working against us.
“Your Royal Highness,” a hand shoots up as soon as the Q-and-A session begins, “A few months ago, you appeared on national TV and you denied knowing Rosemary Wilson. Did you know her at the time?”
“Like I said in my statement, there are some things that will need to be clarified, and that’s one of them,” the prince says as his thumb rubs my hand under the table. “I remember that interview. I did know Rosemary at the time, and it broke my heart to have to deny knowing her, but I had to do it. It was a matter of national security.”
He glances at me and adds, “Besides, all the media attention was very stressful to Rosemary, and I thought I could shelter her from public scrutiny.
“I apologize to the kingdom for making a false statement. My intention was to protect the woman I love.”
Most of the room goes wild with activity as cameras click and reporters shout out questions, their voices overlapping to form an indistinguishable din. A handful of female reporters seem to be stunned into silence, their lips parting and their eyes flashing with desire—sorry ladies, this man’s taken.
The press secretary holds up his hands to get everyone to quiet down. He points to a random reporter and allows him to ask a question.
“Were you the couple in those pictures from the club?”
“Yes,” the prince says, sending the whole room into another frenzy.
“What do you say to the allegations that you abuse women?” asks the next reporter.
“I say everything I’ve ever done with women has been safe and consensual,” the prince says.
I knew something like this was going to come up, but it still pains me to see James getting hounded like this, over some fictional abuse that has never even happened.
I wasn’t planning on speaking up, but I look straight into the cameras in front of me and say, “I can confirm that. Prince James is the sweetest, kindest man I know, and I trust him completely. I know he won’t let any harm come to me.” I wince from the flashes going off all around me as the sound of camera shutters fill the room.
“What’s behind the mysterious door in the woods near Willowdale?”
“It’s the entrance to a secret royal residence,” Prince James says to the audience of enthralled reporters. “We’ve realized now that there’s no need for secrecy anymore. And with all the speculations going around, it’s probably best that we open it to the public.
“Rosemary and I will get married there, and we’ll allow cameras during the ceremony and reception so the whole kingdom can see that there are no aliens there,” James says with a grin, making the reporters laugh. He adds, “Of course that’s also exactly what I’d say if I were actually hiding some aliens from the public.”
The tension has broken, now that most of the big questions have been answered. The journalists seem to be relaxing, even as the questions continue coming.
I’m so glad we decided to tell everyone the truth.
One of the royal advisors suggested that we tell the press the prince and I had met after the pictures from The Dungeon were published.
I’ll admit that would’ve made some things easier: we would’ve been able to deny that we were ever at a sex club; James wouldn’t have had to admit his lie; and it would’ve been possible to keep Ardglass Palace a secret.
But if we feed them the lies and they discover the truth later on, there’d be no way for us to regain the people’s trust.
The people’s trust.
Jesus, those are such serious words.
A few months ago, I was just happy to be making enough money to pay the bills. I wanted to travel, but I didn’t have the money and it wasn’t like I could simply remove one source of income from the family pot.
In short, I had regular people’s problems.
Now, I’m worried about losing the people’s trust?
It’s so ridiculous I’d laugh if I wasn’t also terrified. I don’t know if I can handle that kind of responsibility.
I’m just a young girl from a village in the middle of nowhere. I’m not used to living a luxurious life. I don’t know how to behave myself in the social functions of the nobility.
But Prince James has chosen me, and he has assured me that I’d make a good queen. I don’t know if that’s true; maybe he’s just being kind.
As a side note, being the crown prince’s fiancée is not all fun and games. I hate losing my privacy—they’ve given me a 24/7 bodyguard, now that I’m almost a princess—but I’d do anything to be by his side.
James squeezes my hand, interrupting my thoughts. The reporters are looking at me.
“Did I miss something?” I whisper
to James.
“Someone just asked if you have anything to add. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”
If I’m going to be the prince’s wife, I’ll have to learn to speak to the public, sooner or later.
I face the cameras and say, “I never imagined that something like this could happen to me. I never thought that my wedding would be a kingdom-wide holiday, but here we are.” Some of the reporters laugh, which helps ease my nervousness. “Thank you so much for being here to share in our joy. We ask for your blessing over our marriage.”
Prince James wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulls me close, and kiss me on the forehead. The cameras go wild and I have to shut my eyes because the lights are so bright.
I smile, knowing how much I’m loved. I hope the kingdom can see how happy he’s making me, and realize he’s not the beast they think he is.
Epilogue
Prince James
I’ve never seen the chapel in Ardglass Palace this full before. I stand at the end of the aisle, on a length of red carpet stretching all the way to the door.
The Royal Navy uniform I’m wearing feels stiff and uncomfortable, but maybe it just feels that way because I’m nervous. My crown, which I rarely wear, feels heavy and foreign on my head.
My father and Priscilla are already seated in the front row.
Priscilla refused to go to the announcement of our engagement, even though she was in the same palace when it was happening. But she can’t just skip my wedding without social consequences, especially given how much the people have grown to love Rosemary.
Rosemary is beautiful, graceful, and down to earth. The people seem to find her relatable because she’s not rich and she doesn’t come from nobility.
For all Priscilla’s attempts at staying relevant, Rosemary has accomplished much more at boosting the popularity of the royal family than the evil queen could ever dream to.
Of course they love my girl, I think to myself as my chest swells with pride. Just look at her, walking down the aisle on her father’s arm. She looks radiant in her white lace dress.
I heard she caused some panic among the wedding organizers when she told them she was going to do her own make-up.
I’d have to ask her about that later tonight, when we’ll finally be alone. Ironically, it seems like there’s so much wedding stuff to do that I can’t spend much time with my bride today—the day that we vow to be together for the rest of our lives.
As she slowly makes the slow procession through the crowd, Rosemary’s not looking to her left or her right, even though all eyes are on her. Those big brown eyes are fixed only on me.
That’s my girl. She doesn’t care about the decorations or the number of the guests. Too much press attention annoys her and she’d rather spend her time in the garden than at the shops.
She’s so different from the snobby, privileged princesses and socialites who’d kill for a chance to be the queen. And that’s why I love her. She’s here for me; not for the benefits of being with me.
Even though she’s a princess now, she’s still humble and real, and I think that’s why people relate to her. And they like me by extension because I can’t be a horrible person if someone like her could fall for me.
Rosemary’s father nods at me.
Quentin didn’t like us being engaged at first, which is understandable, considering the way things were at the very beginning. But Rosemary and I chipped away at him, until finally he saw how much we love each other and relented.
Now, he seems to be happy for us.
I have to hand it to Rosemary. I get the feeling that she could settle some bitter, old disputes with her powers of persuasion alone.
It probably also helps that Quentin happens to have fallen in love recently.
When he was visiting Rosemary at The Alcove, he met Wanda and they hit it off. Judging by how well their relationship is going, it’s possible he won’t have to travel for work so much in the future.
Maybe he’ll move into Wanda’s inn and they’ll run the business together. At least that’s what Rosemary is hoping will happen.
She really wants her father to get away from her sisters. Maybe that way the fearsome twosome—which is what I’ve been calling Rosemary’s two sisters in my head—will learn to depend on themselves, and there will be less burden on her father as he grows older.
I think it’s a great time for the sisters to try to stand on their own two feet. Thanks to being related to Rosemary, they’ve been getting invitations to interviews at TV stations and photoshoots for magazines.
Maybe they’ll be able to use those as stepping stones to get modeling or PR jobs. Or maybe they’ll fall on their asses trying—I’m already hearing dissatisfaction among media insiders who have worked with them. Apparently, the fearsome twosome are always late and they act like divas.
I’m lucky to have fallen for the right sister.
Rosemary beams when she finally reaches the end of the aisle. She pecks her father on the cheek, then she lets go of his arm to take mine.
The cameras all around us go wild. Even though flash has been banned by the wedding organizers, the shutter sounds almost drown out the orchestral music.
The people love Rosemary. I can tell.
If I were to marry some other girl, I don’t think the public would be so quick to forgive my lie, or to accept me ,despite the domestic abuse allegations that have been flung at me.
Speaking of some other girl… Right after my engagement to Rosemary, Cheryl got some air time. She stuck to her original story, which was fine in the beginning, because people are likely to feel sympathetic to a victim of possible domestic abuse.
But then she started vehemently accusing Rosemary of being a liar and a deviant. That backfired, of course. She didn’t realize just how popular Rosemary had become. Now, even the gossip tabloids have denounced Cheryl as a fraud.
Rosemary and I hold hands and face each other as the priest tells the guests to take their seats. Rosemary gives me a happy grin, which immediately infects me with her enthusiasm. When she’s around, she fills my thoughts so completely that I’m lucky I even hear the priest prompt me for an answer.
“Will you have this woman to be your wife, and will you pledge your faith to her? Will you love her, comfort her, and keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?” the priest asks.
“I will.”
The priest repeats the same question to Rosemary, and I think my heart almost bursts when she answers, “I will.”
Even though I’ve had some time to get used to the idea of us getting married, this moment still feels surreal.
The priest asks me to repeat the traditional vows after him.
“I, James Louis Edward Arthur, take you, Rosemary Wilson, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; to love and to cherish until death do us part.”
Rosemary repeats the same words.
We debated writing our own vows, but it seems more respectful to tradition to stick with the classic vows.
I’m happy with our decision, because even though I’ve heard variations of those vows hundreds of times before, it feels different when I hear them in Rosemary’s voice, when the words slide out from between her luscious lips.
Luckily, I don’t have to wait long to kiss her. The priest announces us husband and wife, we exchange rings, I lift Rosemary’s veil, and… stop myself from going overboard.
We’re being broadcast all over the kingdom and there are little kids watching this, so it’s probably best to save the passion for later.
There’s no rush; we have the rest of our lives to do all kinds of dirty things to each other, but this is not the time.
We give each other a quick peck on the lips and take our seats while the ceremony continues with a sermon by the priest, readings from the holy book, and songs by the choir.
Even in
her modest wedding gown, Rosemary looks tantalizing. I can just make out her curves underneath the delicate lace. Hell, I can close my eyes and imagine all the little details of her naked body.
But I hold myself back. We’re lucky to have survived the scandal. It’s best for us both to behave right now—at least when we’re in public.
Somehow, I’ve managed to get the king’s advisors to admit that the public has accepted our union and my status as the crown prince. They agree there’s no need to cause an upheaval by following Priscilla’s demand to make her son the first in line to be king.
Of course I had to bypass my father and Priscilla to get the advisors on my side, and I still can’t believe I managed to pull that off, but apparently I’ve won some people with my hard work in improving bureaucracy.
At the end of the religious portion of the ceremony, Rosemary and I return to the front of the chapel. We kneel on the stone steps leading up to the altar as my father places a crown on Rosemary’s head.
She looks good with a crown. Maybe we should do like my father and wear these crowns more often after all. But then again, Rosemary looks good wearing anything.
After the ceremony, we’re herded by the palace staff outside the chapel so people can take photographs of us, then we go down the hallway into the ballroom.
The palace staff has worked tirelessly to prepare my mother’s favorite ballroom for the occasion.
The chandeliers have been taken down and polished before getting reinstalled. The thick curtains have been laundered before they’re put back up, their every pleat carefully arranged. Celebratory banners have been hung all over the walls.
The ballroom has never looked more regal than it does now. If only my mother were alive to see this. If only she were alive to attend the wedding and meet Rosemary…
The crowd forms a circle around a big, empty space in the middle of the ballroom, and the music starts to play. I hold my gloved hand out for Rosemary and we start to dance to one of the oldest songs in the kingdom. We embrace and glide over the parquet floor, rolling and spinning to the tune of a flute and a harp.