by W. J. May
“I wanted to give you this.” She pressed the folder into his hand then took a giant step back, watching his reaction.
He stared down, blinking and disoriented, but the Privy Council seal caught his eye. “What is it?” he asked, flipping it open.
It was too dark for him to see, and to be honest Rae wasn’t sure she wanted to be around when he did. But she owed him too much to keep it from him. Cared about him too much to keep quiet even a second longer. When he groped for the light, she reached out and stopped his hand. “I found it when I was going through the Privy Council’s files, trying to find a current address for Samantha. It said J. Decker, so I thought it was yours.” She hesitated, trying to phrase it as gently as she could. “Now… Now I think it might be your father’s.”
The last vestiges of sleep fell away in a hurry as Julian’s eyes widened in the dark. He glanced down automatically, and his hands tightened along the edges of the paper. “My…” The word stuck in his throat, as if it was so unfamiliar his mouth didn’t know how to shape it. Then a sudden shadow clouded his face, and he looked up with a start. “Did you read it?”
“No, I didn’t,” she answered quickly. “It was none of my business. But I thought it might be yours.” She hesitated again, unsure exactly how to proceed. “That being said… you know I’m always here, Jules. If when you get through it, you want to talk.”
His lips parted uncertainly, and for a moment he looked as lost as she’d ever seen him. Then he merely nodded and looked back down at the file.
They didn’t say another word about it. The conversation was over as quickly as it began.
She gave him a quick one-armed hug, then left him standing there in the bathroom as she scampered back down the hall and into her own room. She had just slid underneath the covers, when the alarm went off and Devon rolled over with a sleepy smile.
“Good morning.”
The puppy wriggled awake in between them, and answered with a happy yip.
“Morning.”
Was it going to be good?
They would have to see.
* * *
“No. We’re not technically on the list. But I’m telling you, we have an appointment to see the Crown Prince and Princess at eleven. Which was…five minutes ago.” Devon glanced down at his watch, then back up at the robotic speaker system in complete exasperation. They had fought their way through traffic and arrived at the palace a good half hour ago, but thanks to the wretched little device they had yet to make it through the doors.
A metallic voice answered. Each flat syllable contrasting with the next. “I’m sorry, sir. If your name is not on my list, then there’s nothing I can do.”
Devon slammed his head back against his seat. “You are an insufferable little automaton,” he growled. “And I would like nothing better than to rip your as—”
“Devon,” Rae chided, putting a steadying hand on his arm. “For all we know, these conversations are recorded. We don’t want you listed as an enemy of the state.”
He pulled in a deep breath and set his jaw, speaking through clenched teeth. “I’ll say it one more time: we were invited today as guests of the—”
“Actually, sir, there may be something I can do to assist you.”
Rae lifted her hands in triumph as Devon eyed the machine suspiciously.
“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”
There was a slight pause, then that same static-ridden voice crackled back. “If you admit that Crown Prince Philip is the superior driver, then I will open the gate.”
The car went quiet for a split-second.
Then it exploded in laughter.
Rae’s laughter. Not Devon’s. Devon looked like he was a second away from ripping the speaker right out of the ground, and storming the palace on foot.
“If I admit…” His face clouded for a second before clearing in a sudden moment of illumination. “Is this Philip?”
This time, the laughter came from the box. There were two robotic voices. A low one, and a high soprano that sounded suspiciously like a certain princess they both happened to know.
The gate swung open and the next moment Devon went flying inside, Rae still laughing beside him.
They wound through a miniature labyrinth for a while, a system of side-streets and alleys designed to turn people around, before turning a corner to see a curved gravel driveway. Along the way they had followed the directions of some not-so-subtle security guards, only to end up in a little nook in the back of the palace. It was a private entrance used for the royal inhabitants and their friends.
“It’s like getting a backstage pass,” Rae murmured as they gathered up their things. “I feel like I should be taking a picture for Molly’s ‘strange encounters’ scrapbook.”
Devon rolled his eyes, still smarting from the prince’s prank. “I’m pretty sure documenting a hidden entrance on your cell phone is a treasonable offense.” He took it from her hand. “You know, one of those things we want to avoid?”
“You’re no fun.” She switched into his tatù just to snatch it back out of his hand. “And besides, I’m pretty sure that would fall under the category of light treason.”
His lips parted for a second before he closed them with an amused grin. “And to think, we elected you our president…”
No sooner had the two of them stepped out onto the gravel than they were accosted by even more palace security. IDs were catalogued, cell phones were confiscated, and even though they were posing undercover as ‘friends of the royal couple,’ they were each given a thorough pat-down.
“This is Alfie’s influence,” Devon muttered, yanking his jacket back the right way around as they were finally led inside. “This is because we pulled a gun on him the last time we met.”
Rae remembered the encounter with a nostalgic smile. The two of them had met with Sarah and Philip at a private residence with the clear instructions that they were going to be doing so alone. When another car pulled up unexpectedly in the driveway, their PC training had kicked in. Needless to say, it wouldn’t have been at all unsurprising if the royal couple’s head of security failed to forgive them for what happened next.
“I can’t possibly believe that’s the first time he’s had a gun pulled on him.” Rae’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “I mean, you’ve met the man.”
Devon flashed her a grin, but before he could respond a booming voice rang out in the hall.
“As charming as ever, I can see…”
The two of them spun around to see Alfie coming down the stairs. He looked exactly as they remembered him. Stiff, strict, and unsmiling. His eyes did light up with the faintest sparkle, however, as he took in their disheveled appearance.
“Seems you had a bit of a run-in with palace security,” he remarked innocently. “It’s almost as though they received a tip that the two of you might be carrying concealed weapons.”
Rae’s eyes narrowed sarcastically as Devon cracked his knuckles discreetly behind her back. “Any clue where they might have come up with that idea?” she asked.
“None at all.” The man gestured with a white-gloved hand to a closed door in the side hallway. “The prince and future princess will see you now. Best not to keep them waiting.”
Rae and Devon stalked past him with identical scowls.
“Yeah,” Devon muttered under this breath, “we wouldn’t want that…”
In just the short time that they’d known Philip and Sarah it had become quickly apparent that the life of the royal couple wasn’t exactly as it seemed. They went to all the proper ceremonies, said all the right things, and always waved to the cameras at precisely the right moment.
But the couple was determined to have a private life as well. Secret estates, hidden exits and entrances, even a hidden underground parking system so they could slip away unnoticed.
A great deal of these precautions had been put in place for Sarah.
Upon discovering that the love of his life possessed magical powers, Philip di
dn’t freak out the way most people would. Instead, he dedicated his life to the sole mission of keeping her happy, protected, and safe. On more than one occasion, Rae had been woken up in the middle of the night with a text asking about security. She had seen Devon duck discreetly out of conversations so that he could answer a similar call.
In short, it was a delicate balance—walking that line between public intrigue and private intimacy. Fortunately, it was a line at which both couples were already abundantly proficient.
The second Rae pushed open the door, Sarah sprang to her feet and rushed across the room to catch her in a tight embrace. As if by instinct, Rae’s body relinquished its hold on Devon’s ink to take up the princess’ instead, just in time for the two of them to begin chattering away in Greek.
Philip and Devon watched the bizarre reunion with practiced smiles before crossing the room to shake hands. Normally that would have been done with the utmost respect, but Devon gripped a little tighter than was necessary as he pulled the prince forward.
“Prince Philip is the superior driver?” he asked accusatorily.
The prince grinned and yanked his hand away. “Devon, I’m so pleased to hear you finally say so.”
The four of them burst out laughing as they settled themselves on the two couches pushed into the center of the room. A servant came by to offer them tea, which they declined.
The second he was gone, Rae took the liberty of conjuring mimosas. “A toast,” she proposed as they all picked up a glass, “to your upcoming nuptials.”
They clinked glasses and drank deeply, shooting each other beaming glances at the mere prospect of the big day. Rae remembered reading about Philip’s proposal in the papers. According to the press, he’d thrown a lavish candlelit dinner party, at the end of which he’d knelt down and asked the big question to the applause of their families and friends.
The reality was a little different.
According to Philip, he’d been carrying the ring in his pocket for a good month, trying to find the perfect moment. He’d finally come up with a romantic plan, but as the two were flying back from a conference in Zurich the anticipation had been too much: he’d simply blurted out the question as they boarded an airplane heading back to the palace. Sarah had made them circle the globe until she finally gathered her wits enough to answer.
“Thank you so much,” she said graciously, unable to control the radiant grin lighting her face. “And thank you so much for coming. I know it was a bit last-minute.”
“Of course!” Rae said quickly. “You only ever have to call, you know that.”
And if that call happened to get Rae out of another mind-numbing meeting of the Privy Council, then so be it.
“So, when exactly is the big day?” There was a subtle hint of longing in Devon’s voice. One that only Rae detected. “We were told you were thinking about eight weeks.”
Philip and Sarah exchanged a quick glance.
“Three…actually,” Sarah said.
“Three weeks?” Rae repeated in surprise. That would certainly speed up their plans. “Well, in that case, I’m glad we came today. There are a couple of things we need to go over—”
“Not three weeks,” Philip interjected apologetically. “It’s more like…three days.”
This time, it was Rae and Devon who exchanged a look.
Three days? To plan a royal wedding? Were they nuts?!
“Everything’s already set,” Sarah said quickly, as if guessing their thoughts. “The ceremony, the reception, the clothes. They’re working on the cake downstairs as we speak, and most of the guests we were going to invite are already here for the engagement party.”
Rae cocked her head curiously. “Then why—”
“We’re required to have an extravagant wedding,” Sarah interrupted gently. “When a person of royal descent gets married, it becomes not just a wedding but an international sensation. Philip and I both understand that. We knew full well what we were getting into the second he pulled out the ring, but that doesn’t mean…” she trailed off, looking to her fiancé for guidance.
“…That doesn’t mean we can’t try to keep it as intimate as possible,” he finished, gazing at her with a tender expression. “We want a ceremony, not a spectacle. And while there’s not much we can do about the scale of the thing, we can at least make an effort to throw off the press.”
“By holding the wedding eight weeks early?” Devon asked in disbelief.
“By controlling what parts we can,” Philip answered. “Including the date.”
Rae had to admit she was impressed. Panicked. Inconvenienced as all hell. But impressed.
“Well then,” she clapped her hands down on her knees in a business-like fashion, “I think it’s time we get to work. Immediately.”
For the next three hours the two couples went over every detail of the plan, meticulously making their way through every minute of the big day, step by step.
Where the guests would be coming from, the various entrances and exits, how they would make their way inside. Where the gifts would be screened, the logistical paperwork for everyone in the band. What kind of security the palace was already going to provide, and what potential blind spots that left to be covered by a PC agent.
Blueprints were rolled out on the table, the mimosas pushed aside. The four of them buckled down together, leaving nothing to chance. Until, eventually, there was nothing left to say.
“At which point…you get married.” Rae rolled up the last of the papers, and slipped them into her bag. It had been a hell of a lot to fit into one meeting, but they had gotten through it.
Sarah let out an exhausted sigh, and leaned back against the couch. “And you and Devon are going to be there, right? In the actual church to see it?”
Rae pursed her lips with a bit of a frown. “I’m not sure that would actually be—”
“Oh please,” she insisted, “you have to come! You’ll be some of the only people we would actually want to come if we could do this our way.”
Rae glanced entreatingly at Devon, who gave the princess an indulgent smile.
“We’ll see what we can do,” he said.
And with that, the meeting was over. Purses and jackets were gathered. The pitcher of iced tea Rae had conjured was discreetly thrown away.
“So, what about you?” Sarah whispered as she hugged Rae goodbye. The four of them had been so caught up working on a suddenly-truncated time table, they hadn’t even referenced the fact that Philip and Sarah weren’t the only people getting married. “Have you set a date yet?”
Rae blushed and threw Devon a secret look out of the corner of her eye. He and the prince were still saying goodbye, laughing about some trivial joke like the oldest of friends. “We’re…working on it.”
Sarah pulled away with a little twinkle in her eye. “Work faster.”
Rae bowed her head with a grinning curtsey. “Yes, ma’am.”
Just a few minutes later, she and Devon were off. They effectively dodged Alfie’s security goons in the hall, and before anyone could ask as to why they’d been allowed into the royal couple’s private residence they were flying back through the little gate and onto the streets of London.
“Three days.” Devon shook his head, his hair whipping back and forth around him. The windows of the car were rolled down, and both he and Rae were enjoying the breeze. “I can’t believe they actually put together a royal wedding in just three days.”
Rae shot him a sarcastic smirk. “You wanted to put ours together in just three minutes. If my leg hadn’t been broken in three places, I bet you would have dragged me to a church right then and there.”
“Don’t tempt me,” he replied as they drove past yet another gorgeous cathedral. “I still have dreams of kidnapping you and taking you to City Hall.”
They drove the rest of the way home in comfortable silence. Each one thinking back on Philip and Sarah’s wedding plans. Each one dreaming of their own.
Rae had to admit
, after hours of talking about dresses, and flowers, and cakes…it was hard not to think about what things she might want. It was hard not to start asking herself some of the same questions.
What song should they choose for their first dance? Where should they honeymoon?
Could they even have a honeymoon until Samantha was safely locked away?
It had been unofficially assumed that they would wait until that final crisis was over. They didn’t want a troublesome cloud hanging over the proceedings, and more than anything else they didn’t want any surprises on their big day.
With my luck, Samantha would pop out of the cake and command us to dance until our feet fell off.
“How do you feel about the Caribbean?” Devon asked suddenly.
Apparently, Rae wasn’t the only one with honeymoon on the brain.
She turned coyly in her seat, gazing up at him with a grin. “I like the Caribbean…”
His hands tightened upon the steering wheel as he gazed towards the horizon. “There’s this island called St. Lucia. Crystal-clear water. Tropical drinks oversaturated with rum. You in a bikini all day…” His sparkling eyes glazed over as he imagined it, dancing with a million possibilities. A million possibilities that were far too scandalous to share.
She watched him, mesmerized at how handsome he was. One day the hair might gray a little, but he’d always be breathtaking. Like a fine scotch that just got better with age.
The corners of his lips twitched up, and he flashed her a dimpled smile. “Just an idea.”
She dropped her eyes to her lap, hiding her blushing cheeks behind a curtain of hair. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
Keep it in mind indeed!
Rae could think of nothing else as they sailed over the wet pavement on their way home. It wasn’t even until they turned onto the block that she realized something was very wrong.
Devon noticed it at the same time.
Every muscle in his body tensed in alarm as his eyes flashed towards the house. He froze for a second, listening, then shouted something that sounded a hell of a lot like—