Morning dawned gray and cloudy with the promise of rain in the humid air, but it was otherwise very similar to the morning of Chevalier’s coronation ceremony, at least for me. Bath treatments, lotions, oils, manicure, pedicure, makeup - I had hours of primping and prepping before I had to put on a gorgeous engagement gown, and I still wasn’t sure it was enough. Nobody could look good enough to wear that dress. The white silken material spoke for itself in the plain bodice, which was tight down to the top of my thigh at the front, and a full skirt flared out from a diagonal line across my hips to the small of my back. Long, lacy sleeves with enough solid roses interwoven into the gauzy translucent material hid the scars on my arms, and a pair of white high-heeled shoes completed the ensemble. I’d known the moment I saw it at my first fitting that it would drive Chevalier crazy, and that was before I knew the effect my wardrobe could have on him.
The red dress, the pink dress - neither of them could compare to this.
I stared at myself in the mirror, reminding myself this was not the wedding. It was only the engagement ceremony. We weren’t getting married yet.
But the woman in the mirror was wearing a wedding dress. The service would take place in the chapel. A priest officiated, a witness testified, Chevalier and I had to say vows and sign a legal document - this was a wedding. For all intents and purposes, this was a wedding.
“Ready for me to work my magic?” Yves asked, ushered in by Theresa as the rest of the maids left so I could breathe. Except it was getting harder to breathe.
“Hey, Ivetta,” Theresa called, waving a hand in front of my face.
I swallowed hard and shook my head. “Sorry.” I spun around for Yves to see, hoping I wouldn’t pass out before I completed the circle.
“Relax,” Theresa said, ushering me to the chair in front of my vanity. “You’ll be fine.”
“You look beautiful, Ivetta,” Yves added as he picked up my hairbrush.
“I just - it’s only been a few months since we met…”
“Don’t tell me you’re getting second thoughts?” Yves asked, his fingers freezing and his sky-blue eyes widening with alarm.
“N-no, it’s not that-”
“You keep working,” Theresa instructed Yves. “You, take a breath,” she told me, prying my white-knuckled hand from my skirt. “Yeah, it’s only been a few months, but you’ve gone through more in that time than most people go through in a lifetime.”
“I-I know…”
“Don’t move your head,” Yves chided me when I tried to nod.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Nothing’s going to change,” Theresa continued. “You’ll just have a piece of paper saying what everybody already knows.”
“Is…is that normally how it is?” I asked Yves tentatively. “Nothing changes after the engagement ceremony?”
“Well, most of the time, it’s an arranged marriage, so yes,” he said, exchanging the brush for a comb and parting my hair into sections. “After the ceremony, everything goes back to how it was before. The couple is as good as married, and they act that way when they meet at parties, but it’s not uncommon for that to be the only time they see each other until the actual wedding.”
“They’re…as good as married?” I asked in a small voice.
“He won’t ask you to do anything you’re not comfortable doing,” Theresa reassured me.
“Wait. You’re not - I mean, you and he haven’t - uh - you know-” Yves stammered, his face turning redder and redder with each word until it was almost as red as my face. Theresa smacked him on the shoulder.
“Why would you even ask that?” she scolded him. “No, they haven’t, not that it’s any of your business! You just do her hair, and keep out of this!”
“I just - um… Sorry. Nevermind,” Yves said, shaking his head quickly.
I really wanted to hide my face in my hands, but I didn’t want to ruin my makeup or mess up whatever Yves was doing with my hair, so I stared tight-lipped at my flushed reflection and wished I could disappear. Theresa shook her head in disgust and shot Yves a glare.
“Ignore him,” she told me. “As far as everybody else is concerned, you and Chevalier have been as good as married for a while now, so, like I said, nothing changes today. Except you get this gorgeous dress out of it all,” she said, plucking at my skirt. “And a ball. You love to dance.”
“Chevalier doesn’t,” I noted glumly.
“He likes to dance with you,” Yves corrected me, earning himself another glare from Theresa. “What’s wrong with me saying that?” he protested defensively.
The strange pep talk and argument continued while Yves piled my hair on top of my head in an intricate updo, distracting me from the anxiety twisting my gut. I didn’t bring up the trip to Chevalier’s family estate tomorrow. That felt too much like a honeymoon to me, but it was only a day trip. They were right. I didn’t need to worry. This wouldn’t change anything.
“It needs something else,” Yves said thoughtfully, setting the comb down and tapping a finger to his lips as he surveyed my hair. I stared at my reflection, wondering what he was talking about. I already looked like a cake topper. What else could there be?
“Hm.” Theresa released my hand and straightened up, analyzing me so intently that I squirmed in my seat. “A white rose.”
“Yes!” Yves exclaimed.
“I’ll be right back.”
Theresa rushed out the door, leaving Yves and me in an awkward silence. I dropped my gaze to my lap and fidgeted with my skirt.
“I hope it doesn’t rain until everybody gets home,” Yves muttered.
“Nobody’s leaving today,” I replied.
“No, I mean the commoners. I think the entire city is in the courtyard right now.”
“What?” I asked, looking up at him in alarm. He frowned as his puzzled sky-blue eyes met mine.
“Didn’t you know about the presentation to the people? After the ceremony?”
I nodded hesitantly. “That’s when Chevalier takes me to the balcony overlooking the courtyard before we come back inside the palace. But…the entire city?”48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdBYHdUzJGx
“You’re really popular with the commoners because you used to be one of them,” Yves explained. “They’ve been coming through the gates all morning.”
That didn’t help my nerves. I looked back at my white knuckles clenched in my skirt and forced myself to release the fabric. I didn’t want to wrinkle it.
“It has all happened pretty fast,” Yves said after a moment. “Any major celebration usually takes a year or two to plan here at the palace. A coronation ceremony, an engagement ceremony, a wedding…”
The last word hung in the air, echoing repeatedly in my ears until he continued.
“Chevalier can be really patient, but when he decides he wants something, he makes it happen. He didn’t have to rush the coronation ceremony. Everybody already recognized him as the king. But he wanted to make sure everybody recognized you as his choice for a queen, so he pushed to get it done as quickly as possible while still allowing you enough time to prepare. He did the same thing with the engagement ceremony.”
I already knew all that. It surprised me when I learned the last king had waited a full year for his coronation ceremony, but when Sariel explained the elaborate planning behind it, and every other major event, it made sense. And I knew Chevalier’s reasoning for pushing everything forward, too. The delay his father made allowed plenty of time for the sect of nobles opposing his relationship with the last Belle to force her out of the palace and into exile.
“He could have skipped the engagement ceremony,” Yves said.
“No, he couldn’t,” I replied. “Sariel made that very clear. It’s tradition to-”
“Do you really think tradition is enough to stop Chevalier from getting what he wants?” Yves asked pointedly.
I pressed my lips together. That was an easy answer.
“We all thought he would jump straight to the wedding, but if you’re not, um, ready for, y-you know…”
My face flushed with heat again, and I knew Yves was blushing, even without looking at him. He swallowed audibly.
“Wh-what I’m trying to say is, he won’t - I mean, um, th-there’s nothing left but the wedding, and if you’re not - he won’t, um, - he won’t rush that,” he stammered.
“Got it!” Theresa exclaimed, bursting through the door with a white rose in her hand. She stopped and looked from me to Yves, and her green eyes narrowed into a glare. “What did you say?” she accused, storming up to Yves and shoving the rose in his chest.
“It’s fine,” I intervened. “He didn’t say anything wrong. It was…really helpful, actually.” I took a deep breath and sat up straight. “You’d better hurry, Yves. We don’t have much longer before the ceremony.”
“Right.” He twisted the rose stem in between the strands and loops of my hair to position the blossom perfectly on the side of my updo. “There. All done.”
“Okay, now shoo!” Theresa said, pushing him to the door.
“Wait, the ring!” he exclaimed.
I pulled it off and handed it to him, and then he was gone, and Theresa was pulling me to my feet. “You look so beautiful!” she squealed, holding both of my hands in hers and beaming at me.
“Thanks.” I took another deep breath and looked over at the mirror. “But I don’t know how we can top this for the wedding.”
“Easy.” She released my hands, spun in a circle, and struck a pose. “I’ll be in a bridesmaid gown.”
I laughed. “A maid as a princess’ bridesmaid? What will everybody think?”
“Not just a bridesmaid,” she corrected me confidently. “Maid of honor.”
A knock on my door interrupted the all-too-brief moment of levity. I swallowed down my returning nerves and straightened my shoulders as Theresa opened the door for Sariel. His narrow lavender eyes looked me over, and then he held out his arm for me. I took it and followed him into the hall.
“The Marquis de Michel is here,” he said. My heart stopped for a second.
“Chevalier’s grandfather?” I gasped.
“There is no need to be nervous, Princess Ivetta,” Sariel reassured me. “It is only natural that he should wish to meet you.”
He could have met me the day of the coronation ceremony, but he left immediately after Chevalier’s crowning and he hadn't even tried to see me since then. I stewed and worried in silence as Sariel and I traversed the halls, and then we stepped outside. The muggy air hit me right away, pressing in on my chest and making the light silken gown I wore unbearably heavy. Or maybe that was the lead weight in my stomach.
“Just a short walk to the church, and then to that balcony over there for the people’s presentation, and then back to the palace,” Sariel said. His deep voice wasn’t soft or kind at all, but the normality of his instructions was soothing somehow. I fixed my eyes on the church and lifted my chin. This was nothing for me, as a princess, or as a person. I’d been through much worse. A short ceremony, waving to a crowd, smiling and chatting with nobility - I could do this.
He led me into the church foyer, and then he said, “I have a pile of gifts to sort through for you.”
“Gifts?” I asked, surprised into whipping my head around to look at him. His thin smile had a rare genuine quality to it.
“You’re quite popular. But King Chevalier is waiting.”
Meaning the Marquis de Michel’s opinion mattered little, and I needed to focus on what was important: this ceremony and Chevalier. I nodded and smiled back at him, and then he opened the next doors, and I was staring at row after row of empty pews, my heart pounding so loudly in my ears that I couldn’t have heard organ music even if there were any playing. But the seat in front of the organ was empty. The only other people in the chapel were the priest and Chevalier, waiting at the altar. Everything else faded away when I met Chevalier’s crystal blue eyes. He was wearing a white tuxedo and a soft smile, and the weight in my stomach vanished. I think I floated down the aisle on Sariel’s arm. The ceremony was a blur, and then Chevalier led me back outside, where I couldn’t feel the humidity anymore. If it weren’t for the roar of cheers bringing me back to reality when we reached the balcony overlooking the outer court, I don’t know how much longer I would have stayed in that hazy state.
Yves was right. There were hundreds of faces packed in the courtyard below us, smiling and applauding and cheering.
“Ivetta,” Chevalier said softly, drawing my attention back to him for another kiss, short and sweet. The first rain drops dotted his shoulders. “We need to get inside.”
A crowd of servants waited to raise another cheer as soon as we stepped through the door into the palace, and more applause met us in the ballroom. I giggled and squeezed Chevalier’s arm, leaning in to ask, “Are you sure this isn’t the wedding?”
He chuckled and inclined his head toward me so I could hear his low whisper. “I have the rings, if you’re ready.”
I felt a fluttering in my chest and stomach, whether nerves or excitement, I wasn’t sure. Maybe both. Probably both.
“Not yet, but keep them handy."48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvGfm0RS0Gz
