“Back inside. There are dry clothes. And we need to celebrate!” Jessica takes my hand and, even though we’re both wet to the skin, starts running back toward the awning, pulling me behind her. She goes a few steps, then turns back to shoot me a naughty smile. “No last names, though, okay?”
I squeeze her hand, grinning back at her.
This is not where it ends.
This is where it all begins.
Epilogue
Jessica
I stand just outside the inner doors leading to the aisle in Sainthall Cathedral, my hands trembling.
It’s my wedding day and coronation day all wrapped into one, and all the anticipation of the past few months has culminated in a celebration that has all of Saintland in an uproar.
At least that’s what Alec tells me. I’ve been so busy with wedding planning that I haven’t seen much of the news coverage about our impending nuptials. It all hit me today as I rode in the limousine through the streets of Saintland from the Sainthall Palace to Sainthall Cathedral.
It was like a scene out of a fairy tale. Crowds lined the streets, throwing honest-to-God confetti into the air as the car passed them by. I had to remind myself to wave at them instead of just staring, despite Claire’s constant stream of instructions.
I was happy to see her when I got back to Saintland. She’s going to make the perfect head personal assistant in my new “household.” It’s funny—I thought I knew most of what there was to know about living in a palace after my last visit to Saintland. Not even close.
My father was waiting for me when the limo pulled up in front of Sainthall Cathedral, and he and my brother Thomas escorted me into the cathedral. But not until the media had their fill of taking pictures of my dress, which was designed by Sarah Burton. I can’t help but feel a special kinship with Kate Middleton now, although I haven’t met her.
Yet.
My heart pounds with excitement, but the processional is still going. We have more flower girls than I ever thought necessary, but because this is a royal wedding, there were a lot of details that I didn’t get to decide, tradition did. Claire went through everything with me thousands of times, but she always made it clear when something wasn’t up for discussion. The flower girls were one such thing.
Claire’s still the same, but many other things at Sainthall Palace are changing. As soon as we got back to Saintland, Alec started out by setting some ground rules.
On the plane ride back over the Atlantic, we cuddled together in the plush leather seats, and he told me some of what had made Marcus’s life so stressful—and his father’s. Saintland was a nation founded in unrest, and there’s still some question about where the physical boundaries should lie and whether it should be a kingdom at all. There are so many behind-the-scenes negotiations taking place that it’s no wonder it all got to Marcus. If the Saintlandian economy collapses, it’s going to be a disaster for its citizens. Alec is determined not to let that happen. I got the sense that there was more he wasn’t sharing with me, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there was an obscure provision in Saintlandian law that would allow for the removal of the ruling royal family under certain circumstances. That’s the last thing Alec’s father would want, and would be a significant source of stress for him, too.
Still, a life under that kind of pressure is not a life worth living, and so Alec has pushed back against tradition with strict boundaries. He won’t work past 6:30 p.m., unless there’s a special event requiring his attendance.
He’s also convened a series of meetings to decide what role the Princess of Saintland will play in royal politics. No longer will a princess—or queen—be relegated to social events, something sexist and ridiculous that should have been legislated out of existence a long time ago. It’ll take a while to get everything in place, but for now I’m happy knowing I’ll get to run my own staff and plan my own agenda. More like a first lady than anything, but it’ll all begin once I’m crowned princess.
Which will take place approximately two minutes after I’m done speaking my wedding vows to the love of my life.
My father nudges me with his elbow, and I look up into his eyes, which are glistening with tears.
He and my mother were in Argentina when I called to tell them the news—no easy feat, since they don’t keep their international cell phone on very much for fear of “wasting minutes.” For being such free spirits, they don’t put much stock in the technology that makes it possible. Of course, they’re both here, my mother already seated in the front row of the cathedral. It’s a little Reeves family reunion .