With that, he spins on a heel and strides down the aisle.
Chapter Nineteen
When I wake the next morning in Carter’s bed, I think I’m dreaming. I must be. For I’d given up on ever having this again: the simple pleasure of his skin on mine, his arms around me, his lips skimming the nape of my neck beneath a set of silken sheets while the world slumbers on outside.
“Good morning, love.”
“Good morning,” I murmur back, sleep still lacing my voice. “Is this a dream?”
“It is my dream.”
Without turning me to face him, he guides his cock between my thighs and begins to fuck me. Slowly, methodically. As if we have all the time in the world.
Perhaps because we do.
I arch my spine as he moves inside me, delirious from the pleasure he invokes with each thrust.
“Emilia,” he groans as he comes into me.
“Carter,” I breathe, shattering to pieces.
Afterward, we lay there for a long while — limbs tangled together, my ear memorizing his heartbeats, his hand stroking my curls.
“Are you nervous?” he rumbles after a while.
“About?”
“The press conference this morning. Henry’s big announcement.”
I push up onto my elbows to peer into Carter’s face. “Honestly? No. I’m just not sure why he didn’t explain things yesterday, outside the church. Rather silly to make an announcement about another announcement, if you ask me…”
When we exited Windsor Abbey yesterday, the crowd waiting for us outside was practically rabid for information. News that the wedding was off — that the groom had been led away in handcuffs by the Queen’s Guard, no less — had set off a veritable atomic bomb.
The appearance of Crown Prince Henry on the steps — alive and mostly well, with only a few scars to account for his time away — raised the radiation levels from atomic to nuclear.
Instead of neutralizing the drama, Henry simply smiled that dashing smile of his and read a brief statement: There will be a press conference tomorrow at noon at Waterford Palace. All your questions concerning the future of Germania’s monarchy will be addressed at that time. We, the Lancasters, appreciate your patience during this difficult and confusing period.
Carter shrugs. “Perhaps he wanted to give you some time to adjust, before…”
“Swooping in and taking my crown?” I joke, laughing. “Trust me, I get it. The crown was never meant to be mine in the first place. It’s only right he’d want it back. This is Henry’s legacy — far more than it was ever mine.”
“And you won’t miss it?” Carter’s brow crinkles.
I hesitate. “I won’t miss the media attention. I won’t miss the pressure to always do the right thing. I won’t miss the rules that dictate who I can love.”
“But?” he presses.
“How do you know there’s a but?”
“I know you, Emilia.”
I brush my lips against his. “Too well, apparently. I’ll have no secrets, living with you.”
“Oh?” His eyes fill with teasing light. “And when, exactly, did I ask you to move in with me?”
“You didn’t. I’m asking you.” I grin. “Carter Thorne — will you move in with me?”
“Where? Here, at the palace?”
My brow furrows. “I hadn’t thought of that. But I doubt we’ll keep living here, once Henry officially reclaims the throne… A shame, really, since I designed just about every square inch of the East Wing to my exact taste.”
Carter is watching me carefully. “Emilia.”
“Mmm?”
“It’s okay to admit it.”
“Admit what?”
“That you’ll miss this — living in the castle. Being the queen. Being Emilia the Liberator. Being the Lancaster Lioness. You say Henry was born into this legacy, and maybe that’s true. But you’ve built your own legacy here from scratch. Piece by piece. Day by day. It’s okay to be proud of that. I’m damn proud of you for it.”
My eyes start to water. “You’re making me cry. Quick, say something mean.”
His thumb swipes a tear off my cheek. “Give yourself permission to grieve the things you are losing, Emilia.”
“Who’d have thought, right? A year ago… who ever could’ve imagined I’d be so sad to walk away from this life?” I shake my head. “When we first met, I couldn’t wait to escape it. Remember?”
“I do.” He pulls me back down against his chest and presses a kiss to my forehead. “But I also remember how much fire you had, even then. You were raw potential. Pure electricity. A spark-plug, just waiting for her chance to light up the world.” His voice goes lower. “I took one look at you and thought to myself, ‘This girl, right here… she’s going to change the world one day. I hope to God I’m around to see it when she does.’”
My tears drip onto his chest in rhythmic droplets.
“I love you,” I whisper after a while.
“I love you too,” he tells me gruffly. “Whether you’re a queen or a commoner. You are my always.”
The Great Hall is full to capacity.
I’ve never seen so many bodies crammed inside, even during my coronation ball.
Henry and I stand side by side on the raised platform, gazing out over the crowd together. Just behind us, my royal advisors form a line of solidarity — Chloe, Simms, Lady Morrell, Riggs, and Galizia. If I glance to my left, just out of sight, I can spot Carter leaning against a marble column, surveying the crowd with a bemused look. As if he feels my eyes on him, he glances up at me and winks.
“Ready?” Henry asks from beside me.
I turn and find my cousin watching me with curious eyes. I know he’s aware of my not-so-secret relationship — Carter told me last night, after we made love. But if Henry bears any resentment toward me that my torrid affair worked out while his crashed and — quite literally — burned, he shows no sign of it.
Much as it pains me to admit it, Henry will probably be a better ruler than I ever was. He is, from all accounts, a level-headed and kind man. Not only that, he was trained from infancy to accept this role. His knowledge of foreign policy outmatches mine by miles.
Germania is in far safer hands with him at the helm.
“Ready,” I confirm, nodding at him. The crown on my head bobbles a bit when I do — I made sure not to use any pins to secure it.
Soon, I’ll be passing it off.
Henry smirks at bit at the sight of my wobbling crown. Turning to face the crowd, he taps the microphone to call the room to order. The press fall silent instantly.
“I’m sure you have many questions for me regarding Alden Sterling’s arrest yesterday, as well as my sudden reappearance in your lives. I ask for you to let me speak my piece before we entertain your curiosity. We have much information to cover and, presuming you don’t want to have a mass slumber party here at the castle, a limited time in which to do so.”
A laugh titters through the crowd.
“As many of you know, my name is Henry Lancaster. Son of Leopold and Abigail Lancaster, the late King and Queen of Germania. Last October, my parents lost their lives in a fire — the same fire that claimed the lives of several staff members here at the palace and left me with this lovely souvenir you now see on the left side of my face.” He grins, his lopsided smile easily charming the crowd. “I will not bore you with the details of my recovery, nor will I attempt to convey the depth of my grief upon waking from a coma to learn my only family had perished.”
A hushed silence falls over the room.
Henry clears his throat. “What I will tell you about is the joy I felt when I learned I was not, as I’d been led to believe, the last in the Lancaster line. There was another.”
I suck in a breath when all eyes turn to me.
“An unknown cousin. A young woman I believe you have all come to know quite well, in my absence.” He laughs. “For she is not what we would describe as subtle, this lion cub cousin of mine.”
Another titter moves through the room. I think I might die of embarrassment.
Just get it over with already. Tell everyone how much I’ve screwed up, that you’re taking back your crown before I can do any more damage and banishing me from the castle…
“But you see, as I lay in my hospital bed, worrying about the state of my kingdom… I watched as that wild lion cub did something quite remarkable. She began to roar.” Henry looks over at me, eyes reflecting the light from a hundred press cameras. “She roared loud enough to shake the walls of Parliament. Loud enough to earn the right to vote for those who have been marginalized in this country for far too long. Before my very eyes, this cub became a lioness.”
I don’t know who kicks off the clapping — someone in the back row. All I know is, suddenly the entire room is applauding.
For me.
I feel my eyes beginning to water as the wave of support hits me, as hundreds of reporters put down their microphones and smartphones and notepads long enough to bring their hands together. A wolfish whistle sounds from my left and I laugh, knowing it’s Carter.
Henry lets it go on for a while, then taps the microphone for silence once more.
“Emilia Victoria Lancaster was not the queen you were promised. She was not the queen any of us expected. Least of all me.” He shakes his head lightly. “But she has become the queen we deserve. And the crown she has worn so well in my absence… I worry may no longer fit me.”
Wait.
What?
“I spent my life thinking I would be the King of Germania. Denying who I was — and who I loved — for fear that a monarch like me would never be accepted on the throne. Resenting that throne, even, for making something I cannot change about myself — my sexual orientation — something secret, and taboo, and wrong.”
A gasp moves through the crowd.
I stare at Henry, overcome by his bravery. His spine is straight, his profile proud. There is no hesitation in his voice. Each word rings out clearly.
“All over this country, young men and women wake up every day, fearing that they are somehow different. Somehow other. Fearing that something as basic as human attraction will hold them back from opportunities and limit their life choices.” Henry sighs. “I would not be a very good role model — or monarch, for that matter — if I was not brave enough to stand here and speak my own truth, on behalf of those like me, who struggle every day to live authentically.” He straightens his shoulders. “So today, I am here to set the record straight, once and for all. I am a Lancaster. I am a Germanian. And I am a proud gay man.”
I start the applause, this time. Chloe joins in at my back, cheering so loud it hurts my eardrums. And the whole room follows — thunderous applause filling the Great Hall, rattling the crystal chandeliers far overhead.
“I know this news comes as a shock to many of you,” Henry says, when it finally tapers off. “We are in uncharted territory. Never before has the monarchy had an openly gay ruler. And I know we will face opposition. But I believe a good ruler is defined not by who he or she loves; a good ruler is defined by how much he or she loves their country.”
He glances briefly at me, and I can’t help thinking he’s talking as much about himself as he is me and Carter.
“Here, here!” I cheer, feeling tears prick my eyes.
I don’t care what anyone says.
This man is a king.
Henry smiles at me fondly for another moment, then turns to continue his speech. “That said… these past few months have provided me with immeasurable time to think — not merely about the future of our great nation, but about my own future. About what I want from it.” He pauses, throat clearing. “The truth is, I have never aspired to rule. I have no aptitude for it. And yet, I never had any other choice. There was never another option for me besides the throne, because there was never an alternative who could occupy that seat in my place.”
He pauses for a long beat, and the room seems to hold its breath.
I’m certainly holding mine.
“But that is no longer the case,” he says softly. “We now have an alternative. A better alternative, in my humble opinion. One who has proven her worth time and again. One who makes mistakes, learns from them, and tries once more with new determination. One who will lead us into a progressive future — with or without a nobleman by her side. A ruler defined not by who she marries or how many heirs she produces… but in the changes she inspires within all of us, each day of her reign.”
I blink, hard. I must be dreaming. Or delusional.
Henry holds out his hand to me and, shaking, I step forward to take it.
“What are you doing?” I whisper under my breath.
“What’s meant to be done,” he replies simply. Turning to the microphone, his voice lifts to a crescendo. “I, Henry Lewis Lancaster, do solemnly abdicate any past, present, and future claims to the throne. From this day onward, Emilia Victoria Lancaster shall be considered by all the true heir. The Queen of Germania, by blood and by right. Long may she reign!”
“Long may she reign!” a voice calls back.
“Long may she reign!” another shouts.
“Long may she reign!” a third.
“Long may she reign!”
“Long may she reign!”
“Long may she reign!”
“Long may she reign!”
I turn to Henry, stunned. Crying.
“Why?” I ask, my voice breaking on the word. “Why would you do this?”
“Because you deserve it,” he whispers in my ear, smiling. “Your Royal Majesty.”
Reaching up, he steadies the wobbling crown atop my head. Planting a kiss on my cheek, he takes a step back… leaving me alone in front of the roaring crowd.
They are still cheering for me, showing no signs of stopping anytime soon. And as I look out over them, my eyes drifting across all the different faces, from the front row to the back…
I think of my kingdom.
My broken, imperfect, messy, beautiful, divided, united kingdom.
There is work to be done.
There are strides to be made.
There is change to inspire.
I know it will be hard — that every step of the way will be more difficult than the last. But I will not be walking alone. I have many hands to help me shape this sordid empire into something magnificent.
A pompous man in pinstripes.
A redheaded recovering addict.
A prim and proper style guru.
A level-headed commander.
A badass personal bodyguard.
A brave-as-hell new cousin.
And, perhaps most importantly of all…
A man who makes my worst days brighter. Who inspires me to do better. To be better. Who pushes my boundaries and pulls greatness from within me, his strong hands holding me steady as I pick out a new path forward.
For myself.
For the monarchy.
For this every citizen of this nation.
I am not an orphan any longer.
I have a family, now — one of my own making.
It is for them that I live.
For them that I rule.
Non sibi sed patriae.
Not for self, but country.
Epilogue
FIVE YEARS LATER
“Princess Nina! Please, don’t put that in your mouth… Your parents will have me executed.”
An exasperated grunt drifts up from the general direction of the garden below our open window. The new royal nanny is having a hell of a time, from the sound of it.
“Your daughter is causing problems again,” I murmur.
“Funny — she’s only my daughter when she’s causing problems. She’s your daughter when she’s successfully taking her first steps across the patio three weeks ahead of schedule.”
“Our daughter,” I compromise, stretching lazily across my husband’s chest, where I’ve spent the past hour sprawled. “Though, with those blue ey
es of hers, she’s your spitting image.”
“Are you complaining?” Said blue eyes narrow at me.
“Not at all. Though I have a feeling you will be in about… oh, fifteen years or so.”
Carter groans. “We still have dungeons, don’t we?”
“I believe so.”
“Perfect. We’ll throw all her prospective boyfriends in there when they come to pick her up for dates. Problem solved.”
I snort. “Great plan. That’ll work.”
“What time do we have to be downstairs?”
“The ceremony starts at noon.”
Carter grins. “Can’t believe Riggs finally convinced Galizia to marry him.”
“Only took half a decade… And an iron-clad agreement that he’s the one staying home to raise the kids while she leads the Queen’s Guard as our new Commander.” I giggle. “Frankly, I’m not sure who’s happier with the arrangement.”
“A commando fairy tale,” Carter murmurs. “Is Chloe coming?”
“I think so. She’s been so busy lately, I feel like we haven’t seen her in ages.”
“Sponsoring someone new?”
I nod. “Isn’t she always? Plus, Parliament just passed her new pharmaceutical reform bill. Getting drugs off Germanian streets is a full time endeavor. Minister Thorne is far too important for us now, haven’t you heard?”
“True. If not for her auntly duties, I doubt she’d step foot in the castle.”
I smile happily. “Then I suppose we’ll be seeing more of her soon…”
Carter’s grin is so warm, it makes my bones melt.
“Princess Nina!” Outside, the nanny sounds like she’s about to lose her mind. “That is a worm! Worms are not to be eaten!”
“Should we go investigate?” I ask, arching my brows.
“In a bit.” He trails a slow finger along my spine. “I think we have at least fifteen more minutes before this one quits.”
“Like I said — your daughter.”
With a wolfish smile, Carter flips me over onto my back and pins me against the mattress. He hovers over me, careful not to put any weight on my swollen stomach.
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