by R. S. Lively
"I'll stay," I tell him. "But just long enough so they can get to know her."
"Thank you," Christian says.
I hear a soft knock on the door, and I cross the room to open it. As soon as I do, I want to close it again. As if she can recognize the compulsion in my eyes, Christian's mother quickly steps forward, so I can't close the door.
"Piper, may I speak to you?"
I want to say no. I want to tell her to leave me alone, but that's not what I just agreed to. I draw in a breath, and nod.
"Sure," I say.
We walk out of the bedroom and into a sitting room. I take my place on one of the overstuffed pale pink chairs, and look at the queen expectantly. I am suddenly very conscious of how I cross my legs and how straight my back is when I sit. Part of me wants to slouch and act like I am at home just to piss her off, but I told Christian I would try.
"I want to apologize to you," she says. "I didn't handle this situation how I should have, and I'm sorry for that."
I sit in stunned silence for a moment. For a second time today. That really doesn't happen very often.
"Thank you for your apology," I say.
"Do you think we could start again?"
I look at her for a few seconds. Suddenly an idea hits me.
"Hello," I say. "It's nice to meet you. My name is Piper."
The hint of a smile curves her lips.
"It's lovely to meet you, Piper. My name is Miriam."
"Mother?" I look up and see Christian walking into the room, cradling Aurora in his arms. "Someone just opened her eyes, and I think she's ready to meet her grandmother."
I see Miriam's eyes light up, and some of the negativity I initially felt toward her immediately dissipates. It's difficult to feel those types of feelings for anyone who loves my child.
"May I hold her?"
"Of course," I say. "That's why she's here."
Christian carefully settles the baby into his mother's arms, and she gazes down at Aurora.
"She's so beautiful," she says. "So perfect."
"May I come in?"
Christian's father steps into the room, and Miriam looks up at him with a teary smile.
"Come over here, Arthur. Come meet our granddaughter."
I watch as the King sits beside his wife, and rests a hand on Aurora's face. Christian comes to stand by the chair I'm sitting in. There's a tension in his posture, a formality I haven't seen in him before. I wonder how much of that is because we are in his home, and he feels he has to live up to his station, and how much of it is because he's on guard, waiting for my next outburst at his parents. After a few moments, Arthur looks at Miriam.
"Have you spoken to them, yet?" he asks in a low voice.
That doesn't sound promising.
"Spoken to us about what?" Christian asks.
His parents exchange glances, then look at us.
"We have a proposition for you," Arthur says. "We should have mentioned it before, but the conversation got out of control."
"What sort of proposition?" I ask, my voice full of hesitation.
"We understand that you aren't concerned with Aurora having a royal title, or being in line for the throne. We respect that. But we want you to try to understand it from our perspective, and Christian's. This baby is the continuation of our family line. Christian is our only child now, and Aurora is his only child. She should rightfully have her place in the Royal Family. It's her birthright. Cambria is her heritage, and her culture, as much as your family and your home is. We're only asking that she be given the opportunity to fulfill who she rightfully is."
"But you said an illegitimate child can't ascend the throne," I say.
Even saying the word makes my skin crawl. I hate the thought of anyone judging or qualifying my child based on whether or not I was married to her father when she was born.
"That's true," Miriam says. "But there are ancient laws in Cambria that govern that."
"What do you mean?" Christian asks.
"Many, many generations ago, marriages within the Cambrian monarchy were arranged. It was just accepted that the King would have affairs. Mistresses weren't seeing as dirty little secrets. In fact, they had official titles, and even their own apartments in the palace. Many times, they maintained close friendships with the Queen. But there was always the chance that a mistress would become pregnant with the King's child. Obviously, that could cause serious problems, especially if the Queen was unable to produce an heir. So, a law was put into effect that a baby born to an unmarried royal can still be considered royal, and maintain their position in line for the throne, if the parents get married within the first ninety days of the baby's life. It protected the rights of a baby born to the King's mistress, and made sure the family line could continue even if the Queen was unable to produce a child. Within the constraints of law, if a mistress gave birth, the King could then dissolve his marriage to the Queen, and marry the mistress. Often, the Queen would just take the position of the mistress. But what mattered was the baby's claim to royalty, and the succession, was preserved.
"How romantic," I say bitterly.
"It might not seem romantic today, but that's because arranged marriages don't exist in Cambria anymore. It's been generations since royals have been able to choose their own partners, so officially recognized mistresses aren't a part of the tradition of the monarchy any longer. But the law still stands."
"What are you saying?" Christian asks.
"If you and Piper get married before Aurora is ninety days old, everything will be resolved. There won't be any scandal to be discussed, and she will have her place in the family line."
"You believe us getting married would stop people from sensationalizing our relationship?" Christian asks.
"You said yourself the law hasn't been used in generations," I say. "Why would it matter to anyone if we used some archaic tradition to make sure the baby is royal? Wouldn't how we met and when she was born still be scandalous?"
"Only if you talk about it," Miriam says. "You don't have to go into detail with anyone about how you met, or how long you've had a relationship. The thrill of a royal wedding and baby will be enough to quiet any of the rumors."
"I don't know," I say. "I still feel the same way about getting married."
"We thought about that, too," Arthur says. "What if you don't actually get married?"
"What do you mean?"
"Just let everyone think you're married. We’ll throw a lavish celebration, but it will all be for show. The ceremony, the reception, the appearances. It'll be an act. Then, we will present Piper as the Crown Princess, and Aurora as the new generation of the Royal Family. The public will be satisfied, and from there, you can decide what you want to do."
Christian looks at me, and I see unspoken beseeching in his eyes.
"What do you think, Piper?"
Glancing over at his parents, I see the way they cradle her, and their adoration as they steal glances at her.
"I'll do it," I say.
They all smile widely, and I feel my stomach flip.
"This will all have to happen quickly," Miriam says.
I nod.
"Aurora is already a month old," I say.
"I'll start planning all of the details tonight." She looks at me intently. "Thank you, Piper. You're doing the right thing."
There it is. Exactly what I didn't want to hear.
What the fuck did I just get myself into? Oh, shit. I'm going to need to work on that. Damn it.
Chapter Fourteen
Piper
Two weeks later…
A few years ago, I was one of the millions on Earth who planned on watching the royal British wedding when it aired on TV. I happened to be home for a break at the time, and I remember looking forward to being swept away by the glamor and romance. A few of my friends and I even came up with the idea for a viewing party that involved all of us getting dressed-up and sipping champagne while watching the festivities and pretending to be gue
sts.
I was late to the party. Of course, I was.
If I wasn't, I wouldn't have run into the house trying not to fall on my ass in my high heels, twenty minutes after the newlywed couple had already walked out of the church. And if that hadn't happened, I might have been better prepared for my own wedding ceremony being surprisingly short. I stood at the end of a seemingly endless aisle before the ceremony began, looking at my prince waiting for me, and had to remind myself to look like a happy bride. No one else knew this wasn't real. The enormous dress Miriam picked out for me felt like it weighed more than the rest of my body did as I made my way toward the altar. When I finally got there, I braced myself for what I conjured in my mind to be an equally endless ceremony. It felt like only a few minutes later, though, that the officiant proclaimed us husband and wife, and I saw Christian reach for me. Just like that, the ceremony was over.
Our mouths met, and I melted into his kiss. In that moment, I didn't care that it wasn't real. I didn't even care that more than a thousand people I didn't know, who had simply dropped their lives to come to a wedding planned in the span of two weeks, were watching us. For that brief moment, I could lose myself in Christian again.
That moment is now over.
Now I'm fighting with my train as I try to follow him down a hallway at the back of the palace. He's walking way too fast for me to catch up, but he doesn't really have anywhere to go. From having walked down this exact hallway earlier today, I happen to know there's a dead end ahead of us. The only place he can go is the huge room where I tried on this very dress only a few days ago. I finally make it into the room, and find Christian pacing furiously.
"What do you mean it was real?!" I demand.
I've been holding that question in my mouth for more than half an hour since Christian muttered his suspicions to me as I was presented as the new Crown Princess of Cambria. I've had to bite my tongue to hold it in as I was literally paraded through the center of town in a carriage that brought us from the church back to the palace. Now it bursts out of me with all the intensity that built up behind it during that time.
"I mean, the ceremony was real," Christian says. "It wasn't for show. It wasn't fake. That wedding was real."
I still don't feel like I completely understand what he's telling me.
"It was supposed to look real," I say. "Wasn't that the entire point? Weren't we supposed to pull off the Great Nuptial Caper, and fool everybody in the country?"
"Yes," he says. "But that's not what we did."
"What do you mean?"
"When my parents escorted us out onto the balcony to present us, did you notice the man standing below us?"
"The one wearing the blue velvet suit and powdered wig? Yes, he was a little difficult not to notice."
"Exactly," he says.
I feel like I missed the middle of the explanation somewhere.
"What do you mean, 'exactly'?"
"His purpose is to make official proclamations. It's his entire job. He makes all the important announcements for my family. But I guarantee you if you put four other guys in that same outfit, walked them all out into the middle of the village, and ask which one of them he is, not a single person would be able to recognize him. I only do because he's been around forever. He announced my father's birth, if that tells you anything. I have seen him nearly every day of my life, so I know who he is."
"I'm really not following you. What does nobody being able to recognize the little old man have to do with anything, beyond being just kind of sad?"
"What it has to do with anything is that he is only allowed to make official proclamations. That means anything he says, is the law of the land. What comes out of his mouth, comes directly from the King and Queen, making it legal."
Something briefly mentioned during the incredibly rushed planning of the wedding flashes in my mind.
"Oh, shit. We were supposed to replace him," I say. "There was supposed to be another person making the proclamation."
Christian gives a single nod.
"You better clean up your mouth, Cupcake, because you just became a princess."
Anger surges up inside me.
"You knew about this," I say. "Didn't you? You knew this was going to happen."
"No, I didn't," Christian says. "I don't need to trick you into marrying me, Piper. Half the people sitting in that audience are women my parents tried to get me to marry. If I wanted to be married, I would have been long before I met you."
"Wow. You sure do know how to make a girl feel special on her wedding day."
"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean it like that."
I nod with a resigned sigh.
"No, you did. But, that's OK. I understand the sentiment. So, neither of us knows what's going on."
"But someone does."
I see his eyes flash.
"Three guesses who."
Without another word, we both storm out of the room and head toward the ballroom. Christian has to pause several times to let me catch up, but I finally get control of the monstrosity of a dress, and catch up with him. We're nearly to the ballroom when we see his father ahead of us.
"There you two are," he says. "We've been looking for you. Do you realize you're missing your own wedding pictures? Hurry up, the reception is starting soon, and you'll need to make your entrance."
"They're going to have to wait," Christian says.
"Wait? Why would they wait? This is all a big production, remember? It needs to follow protocol."
"We need to talk to you."
"There'll be plenty of time to talk after you've greeted your guests."
"Now, Papa."
Arthur obviously catches the sternness in Christian’s voice, and is staring at him questioningly when Miriam rushes into the hallway. She looks just as flustered as her husband had, and she gestures at us to follow her.
"Come along, Christian, Piper. People are already talking about the two of you disappearing. We need to maintain propriety."
"We need to talk," Christian says.
"Nonsense," Miriam says. "Do you realize who's in that room waiting for you?"
"I think we should talk to them," Arthur says.
They exchange a glance that speaks volumes, and Miriam nods. We go into one of the smaller rooms across the hall, and Arthur closes the door behind us.
"How could you?" Christian asks without any introduction. "How could you do this to us? We agreed to a wedding that was completely for show."
Arthur and Miriam don't even have the decency to look remorseful. If anything, they look embarrassed we had figured it out already.
"We had to do it," Miriam says.
"You didn't have to do anything," Christian says. "You chose to lie to me. To us. Why?"
"Your mother and I sat up all night last week, and talked about the situation. We really did go into this with the thought of the two of you getting married just for show. That was the plan to begin with, and we honestly were going to go through with it."
"Please, don't use the word 'honestly' with me. We are way beyond that right now. You betrayed me."
"It wasn't a betrayal," Miriam says.
"Yes, it was. You convinced us that you respected our wishes, and were going to support us in making the decision that was right for us. Then you went behind our back to ensure the wedding was legally binding."
"I still don't understand how one person making a proclamation could change anything," I say.
"It's not that he made the proclamation," Christian explains. "The wedding was legal before that happened. Seeing him is just what tipped me off. They made sure they put the right steps into place to make our fake wedding look absolutely real... because it was. As soon as I saw George, I knew it had to be real, because he couldn't make a proclamation that wasn't legal."
"We had to do it," Miriam said. "It was for your own good. For both of you and Aurora. Arthur and I talked about it, and we realized that both of us were waiting for you two to realize how c
ritically important it is that you're married. We hoped at some point during the planning process, you'd come to us, and tell us you wanted it to be a real wedding. Then it got closer, and you didn't. So, we decided we needed to take the matter into our own hands. We switched the fake documents for real ones, and made sure the ceremony followed the proper traditions."
"How could you possibly say tricking us into a marriage is for our own good?" I ask.
"Aurora is already six weeks old," Arthur says. "She's halfway through the ninety days. If we'd let you go through with a fake wedding, there's too much of a chance you wouldn't decide to sign the real papers by the time she's three months old."
"But that was our decision to make," Christian says. "It's our lives."
"That's where you're wrong," Arthur says. The sudden strength in his voice stuns us both, and we fall silent. "Your lives stopped being the priority when you created Aurora. This isn't about you, it's about her. What you two do for yourselves is your own concern, but when it comes to my granddaughter, and her future, your decisions aren't yours. I see the way the two of you look at each other. You're so caught up in not acknowledging it, you're not thinking about anything else. You wouldn't have thought about the repercussions for Aurora until it was too late. I'm sorry you feel like you were betrayed in some way, but this secured your child's future. You can manage this for ninety days for that, can't you?"
"Ninety days?" I ask, confused. "I thought the whole point was that we had to get married within the first ninety days of Aurora's life. We did that. What does another ninety days have to do with it?"
"We can't dissolve the marriage for three months," Christian says.