“Is it?” Henry’s brows arch sardonically. “I think it looks rather good on you.”
My mouth gapes again. “But—”
“No! No! I won’t go!” Ava is wailing like a banshee as she’s dragged down the aisle, her claws no match for Galizia’s iron grip. “Henry! Henry, please! My love! Allow me to explain!”
But Henry appears fresh out of patience for his former beloved. He’s already turning back to Chloe. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I’d recovered. At first, I could barely find the strength to roll over in bed. It took weeks to regain my ability to do even the most basic things — to walk, to feed myself, to get dressed without assistance.”
“I could’ve been there to help you, Henry.” Her eyes flicker to mine. “We all could’ve. The thought of you going through that alone…”
“I wasn’t alone.”
“Sure, you had your doctors—”
“I’m not talking about my doctors.” Henry smiles warmly, and it transforms his disfigured face into a thing of beauty. “There was one person I knew I could call. One true friend I was certain I could trust, above all others, to keep my secret. To keep me safe while I was regaining my strength, these past few weeks.”
“Who?” Chloe asks impatiently.
But I think I already know. A feeling is stirring inside me — the hairs on the back of my neck rising to attention, the iron in my blood magnetizing with a heady dose of awareness.
Could it be…?
Henry turns around to face the back of the church. He cranes his neck, gazing upward to the balcony where an impressive organ looms, its many pipes pointing at the domed mural.
I shield my eyes, straining to see what he’s looking at… and gasp as the silhouette of a man comes into view by the railing. Bracketed by light, the incredible cathedral ceiling a backdrop of pastel clouds, he looks like a fallen angel banished from the heavens.
Even from this distance, I can make out the familiar slope of his shoulders. The proud carriage of his profile. The undeniable strength in his arms as he braces his hands against the balustrade and stares down at us on the altar below.
I can’t see his face, but I somehow know — he’s looking right at me.
He was here the whole time.
Carter.
Motherfucking.
Thorne.
I’m running, then — a blur of white, bounding down three steps at once, nearly falling on my face as I leave the pulpit behind.
I don’t care.
I don’t even pause.
My dress snags on a sharp pew corner as I race down the aisle. I hear a rip and keep running.
Fuck the dress.
Fuck the world.
Nothing matters except getting to him.
I don’t know where the stairs to the balcony are, but I figure they cannot be far. As it turns out, it doesn’t matter. By the time I hit the middle of the aisle, he’s there, at the far end.
He’s been running too — he’s out of breath, his lungs pumping like a pair of bellows. When he steps into the aisle, we both go still. Frozen in our tracks, a dozen feet apart.
He looks devastatingly handsome in a navy blue suit, his dark hair combed back from his face in a way that highlights all his best features. Tears fill my eyes as I drink in the sight of him standing there, staring back at me in my ridiculous wedding dress.
I open my mouth to say something — anything. But there’s nothing to say.
There’s everything to say.
“I’m not the queen anymore,” I whisper finally. Haltingly. Hoping like hell it’s enough for him. “I’m just… I’m just…”
“Mine,” he growls, closing the gap between us in two bounds. “You are mine.”
His hard mouth hits mine, his strong arms go around me, and there, hauled up against his chest, sinking into the kiss of a man I love more than my life… more than my country… more than my past… more than my future… For the first time in months…
I am me.
Not a queen.
Not a revolutionary.
Not a PTSD victim.
Not a bride.
Not an orphan.
I am quite simply…
Myself.
And, when I’m in his arms…
That is enough.
That is more than enough.
If we weren’t in a church, it’s highly probable that the kiss might’ve gotten wildly out of hand. As it is, we only lose ourselves for a few moments before Chloe whistles sharply.
“Hey! Lovebirds! There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”
Carter sighs as he pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against mine. He hasn’t yet relinquished his hold. I have a feeling the prospect of letting go sounds as unpleasant to him as it does to me.
“So you’ve been here this whole time? In Germania?” I breathe, narrowing my eyes at him. “Helping Henry?”
He nods tightly. “Yes.”
“What about your Switzerland project?”
“Switzerland can wait. This was more important.”
“I can’t believe you knew he was alive. That the two of you planned this…”
“As soon as I learned the truth about what happened to Henry the night of the fire… I knew I had to step in.”
“What truth? What happened that night?”
“That isn’t my story to tell.”
“Okay. I can wait.” Eyes filling with tears as I stare into his eyes — those blue, blue, blue eyes — I bump his nose gently with mine.
“Why are you crying?” he whispers.
“I thought I’d never see you again. I thought—”
“Hey. Don’t.” He presses his lips hard against mine, stopping my sob in its tracks. “Do you think I’d actually let that happen? That I’d let you marry Sterling without doing everything in my power to stop it?”
I blink at him in surprise. “I—Well—”
“Didn’t I tell you? You’re mine, Emilia. Always and forever. That means I will never let you go. Not in this lifetime. Not even in the next.”
A tear slips from the corner of my right eye. Carter kisses it away as it rolls down my cheek.
“I love you,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I love you so much, I thought I’d die without you. If Henry hadn’t objected when he did, I was about to break it off.”
“I know. I was watching from the balcony. I could see you unraveling.”
I lay my head on his chest, trying — and failing — to get a grip on my tears. “Promise me it’s finally over.”
“What, love?”
“Us, leaving each other.” I close my eyes. “Promise me we’re finally done walking away from one another.”
“I promise.” His lips hit my forehead, depositing a kiss so tender, it fills my eyes with fresh tears. “From this day onward, I will not leave your side. I vow to you, Emilia Victoria Lancaster — until the breath leaves my body, until my heart ceases to beat… I am yours.”
It’s not the vow I thought I would receive from a man in this church today.
It’s far, far better.
I can’t help myself — I have to kiss him again. My hands cling to his shoulders as I bring my mouth to his. Rising onto my tiptoes, I try to deepen the connection, allowing myself to get lost in the sensation of his lips moving over mine. To enjoy the first kiss we’ve ever shared in the open, uncaring who might bear witness to our love.
Chloe whistles again. “Um… hello?! We’re waiting!”
With a frustrated grunt, Carter pulls back from me. “Come on. It’s time you heard the full story.” He takes my hand and starts leading me down the aisle, back toward the altar where Chloe, Henry, and Alden are standing.
Actually, Alden is still rather slumped over, his body braced up with the help of a table.
“Welcome home,” Chloe whispers to her brother, wrapping her arms around him. “Now tell us what the hell is going on.”
Carter glances at Henry and gives a nod of encouragement. �
��It’s time.”
Henry looks from me to Chloe and back again, running a hand through his close-cropped hair. I can see his burns extend up the side of his head, leaving a bald patch behind his left ear. When he turns away from us to look at my groom, still slumped over like a broken Ken doll, I feel all the wind go out of my lungs.
“Alden, my pet,” Henry says, a note of steel creeping into his playful tone. “Would you like to explain why you attempted to murder me? Or shall I?”
When enough crazy things happen in your life, you develop a sort of immunity to insanity. You think you’ve heard it all. That there’s nothing else on this earth that can truly shock you or throw your worldview into chaos.
And then your comatose cousin accuses your almost-husband of attempted murder on your wedding day.
“Henry,” Alden whimpers, looking like he’s about to shit his perfectly-tailored white pants. “Please.”
“Please?” Henry roars, advancing. “You ask for compassion when you left me for dead?”
“I didn’t! It was an accident!”
“The scar on the back of my head says otherwise!” Henry snaps, his face reddening. “The doctors tell me someone hit me quite hard with a blunt curved object — I was unconscious long before the fire ever began.”
Alden shakes his head in denial, saying nothing.
“I’ve often wondered, lying in my hospital bed these weeks and months in excruciating pain, barely able to move or eat as my burns slowly healed… What was it you hit me with, that night?” Henry asks. “It’s the one detail that, try as I might to recall, continues to elude me.”
“Henry,” Alden whimpers. “Please…”
“Was it a lamp off my nightstand? A trophy from my case?” He pauses. “Do tell us, we’re simply dying of curiosity. Operative word being dying.”
There’s a long silence. I assume Alden is going to remain stubbornly silent… but then, in a halting voice, he whispers, “The lacrosse stick. It was the lacrosse stick.”
Henry makes a tsk sound. “You don’t even enjoy lacrosse. You were never any good at it.”
Alden drops his face into his hands, crying like a child. He’s barely recognizable to me. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m so sorry.”
“Afraid we’re a bit past the point of apologies, old sport.” Henry takes a few steps closer and Alden, panicking now, begins to scoot backward, cowering like a child beneath the toppled table. “It’s time to own up to what you’ve done.”
“You have to understand — I thought you were dead! I thought I’d killed you.”
“So you set the fire to cover your tracks,” Henry confirms with bitter resignation. “Hoping my body would burn up — along with the evidence of your crimes.” He pauses, his voice going dangerously low. “I suppose you didn’t realized you would kill my parents and a slew of palace servants in the process. Or maybe you didn’t care. What’s a few lives lost, if you get to live out the rest of your days scot-free?”
Snot is pouring from Alden’s nose, now. He keeps shaking his head, but he says nothing in his own defense.
What could he possibly say?
“How disappointed you must’ve been to learn I was still alive.” Henry crouches down before Alden. “And how very frightened that I’d wake to remember your crimes.”
“I’m sorry. You must believe me when I tell you how sorry I am, Henry…”
“I don’t believe you, though. You aren’t sorry for what you’ve done; you’re merely sorry you got caught.”
“That’s not true…”
“Isn’t it, though? Had I not come back to confront you today, you would’ve married my cousin and claimed your spot as the king of this country. A murderer on the throne.” Henry makes a disgusted sound, rising to his feet and turning his back on the sniveling man beneath the table. “I can’t even look at you. Guards! Please take Lord Sterling into custody. His presence is no longer required. In fact, I do not foresee being in his presence again until he faces trial for mass murder.”
Riggs and Vega swoop in instantly, hauling Alden out from beneath the table. He doesn’t fight them — he doesn’t even struggle. He hangs limply in their grip, utterly defeated.
When they drag him across the altar, his eyes meet mine for a brief moment. I used to think their hazel depths were full of purity and kindness. Now, I see that his abundant sincerity was merely a mask, concealing truths too dark to process.
“Emilia…” he whispers, his expression pleading. “Help me. Please…”
Jerking my head to break eye contact, I flinch backward — straight into Carter’s chest. His warm arms close around my waist, hauling me close, and I absorb his strength.
The thought that I came so close to marrying a monster… that I nearly allowed my country to fall into the grip of someone so terrible…
It’s too much to digest all at once. I will need time — lots and lots of time — to unpack all my feelings about Alden Sterling.
My almost-husband.
“I can’t believe this,” Chloe murmurs, echoing my thoughts. She sits down on the front pew with a thunk, looking shellshocked. “Alden. Our Alden…” Her head shakes. “You two were best friends, Henry. Why would he do something like this to you?”
Henry walks over and sits beside Chloe, wrapping an arm around her back. “I’ve been in love with a Sterling for as long as I can remember.” He pauses artfully. “However… not the Sterling you’d likely expect.”
My brows go up. “You mean…”
“Ava and I were engaged. But behind closed doors… Alden and I were together.” Henry holds my stare levelly. There is no shame in his voice. No embarrassment. “We loved each other for years in secret. Of course, we could never be a couple. Not openly. There are no gay kings on the Germanian throne. Certainly not when there are no other heirs to abdicate to.”
“I had no idea,” Chloe says, blinking rapidly. “And that’s saying something. I have excellent gay-dar.”
Henry chuckles and elbows her. “We were careful. No one knew, with one exception.”
“Ava,” I murmur.
Henry nods. “Yes. She knew. How could she not? It was the perfect arrangement. Or, if not perfect, the best possible scenario for the cards we’d been dealt. Everyone got what they wanted, in a way. Ava got to be the queen, as she’d always wanted to be. I got to be with the love of my life without letting down my country.”
“And Alden got you,” Chloe surmises.
Henry’s lips twist. “That’s where things got tricky. At first, he seemed as happy with the scenario as Ava and I were. But as time went on… he grew tired of being kept in the closet, so to speak. He wanted a normal relationship with me — dates, marriage, children. Things I would never be able to give him. And, more than that, he wanted to reign by my side. The ultimate power couple. Two kings.” Henry runs another hand through his hair. “Of course, that was never an option. That night — the night of the fire — I told him it was over. That being together was turning him into someone I didn’t recognize. Someone power-hungry and jealous and, frankly, a bit too much like his sister.”
“I assume, by the crack in your skull, he took the news well?” Chloe asks dryly.
Henry snorts. “The last thing I remember is him screaming at me that I couldn’t walk away from him. That we were destined to be together. To rule together. That if I wanted to be a king without him… I wouldn’t be king at all. And then… I woke up in the hospital looking like Frankenstein. Eight months had passed, my parents were dead, and my kingdom was being run by a purple-haired munchkin with a penchant for ruffling royal feathers.”
Carter chuckles lowly at my back. Flushing beet-red, I elbow him in the side.
“I’m sorry, Henry. I mean Prince Henry. Uh… Crown Prince Henry? Or is it technically… King Henry?” I wince. “Sorry again. For messing up your kingdom. And your title.”
Henry glances at Chloe. “Is she always this way?”
“Only with people she likes.
Put her in front of a room of patriarchal Prime Ministers, though, and she’s a total savage.”
Carter chuckles again, earning another elbow in the gut.
“Chloe!” I hiss. “Take that back.”
“Why? It’s true.” My sister shrugs. “You’re a badass. And honestly, it’s not like it’s some big secret. Does Emilia the Liberator ring any bells?”
I glare at her.
“She’s not wrong,” Henry says lightly. “Truth be told, there wasn’t much to do in the burn unit for the past few months besides scroll social media and watch the news.” His eyes narrow on mine. “You’re quite the fixture in the press, cousin.”
“Blame my social media advisor.” I shoot Chloe a pointed look.
“You’re welcome,” she says sweetly.
“I can only imagine the media frenzy we’ve caused today,” I mutter.
Carter whistles lowly, contemplating it.
“Let’s see…” Chloe starts ticking press items off on her fingertips. “Royal wedding ruined. Heir apparent back from the dead. Prominent nobleman charged with mass murder… Anything I’m forgetting?”
Carter’s mouth hits my ear, whispering, “I can think of a few newsworthy items involving me, you, and my bed.”
I squirm a bit when he presses into me from behind, the firm length of his cock evident even through the thick silk of my dress.
Sweet Christ.
If we weren’t in a House of God, I’d drag him into the coat room and have my way with him right now.
Blushing to the roots of my hair, I clear my throat. “We should probably get out there, find Simms, and start doing damage control. I’m sure the crowd outside is getting restless, the longer we go without explaining what the hell just happened.”
“You’re right,” Chloe says, pulling her phone from her clutch purse. “I’ll start perusing social media, seeing what people are saying…”
“Don’t worry.” Henry pushes to his feet, reaches into his pocket, and extracts a piece of paper. “I knew going into this that a certain amount of chaos would unfold. I have a statement prepared.” His eyes meet mine and he winks playfully. “Can’t keep my loyal subjects waiting, now can I, cousin?”
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