The Dare Collection September 2018. Stefanie London
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“Here!” Kate calls, rushing toward us. She removes both her earrings—two silver hoops just larger than ring size, both encrusted with brilliant diamonds—and places them in Benedict’s palm. “Consider it a loan until you buy her a real one.”
Juliet blushes.
“Look,” I finally say. “I’m doing what needs to be done for everyone involved. But let’s not pretend this is going to turn into some happily-ever-after. The entire continent knows the story of what happened the last time Edenvale and Nightgardin tried to procure peace via two young lovers.”
“They jumped to their deaths,” Juliet says softly.
I bow dramatically, ignoring the lingering pain in my ribs.
“Exactly!” I shout, triumphant. “Maximus and Calista were fools to think they could have any sort of happiness. So please stop pretending that we will be any different.”
Juliet clicks her tongue.
“What now, Princess?” I snap.
She holds her head high. “That’s not how you told the story to me,” she snaps. “When you took me to the Lovers’ Leap, you recounted their meeting—their instantaneous love—with a wistfulness I did not think a man of your reputation capable of. And for a foolish few nights, I let myself believe that maybe we could do what they couldn’t. But I realize now that the Damien I met doesn’t exist anymore. Maybe he never did.”
I open my mouth to deliver some sort of stinging retort, but Nikolai’s phone rings. He answers and hangs it up in a matter of seconds.
“Now, Benedict,” he says. “Marry them now or it’s all over.”
In a whirlwind of generic vows—something about sickness and health, loving and honoring—I’m suddenly sliding one of Kate’s earrings onto Juliet’s finger. She closes her hand into a fist to keep the dangling piece of jewelry in place.
“I do,” she says with a conviction I do not understand. How could she want this—want me?
But then I hear myself saying the same words as if I’m a bystander rather than one of the main participants.
That is what I am now, what I’ve been for years. A bystander in my own life—never fully participating or investing. Why would I? Everyone in whom I invest, I hurt beyond repair.
I killed my mother in childbirth.
I killed my first love, Victoria.
I hear the march of footsteps beyond the chapel door and know that I’ve sealed Juliet’s fate as well.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Benedict says as the doors burst open and four Nightgardin guards rush into the small church with twice as many Edenvale patrol on their heels. Benedict simply nods at our new guests.
Without thinking, I grab Juliet’s hand and step off the dais.
“Stand down,” I say. “All of you. By order of Damien Lorentz, Prince of Edenvale.” Then I squeeze my new wife’s hand.
“And by Juliet de Estel, Princess of Nightgardin and Edenvale.” She rubs her hand over her stomach. “And by order of protection of the dual kingdom heir.”
All guards stop in their tracks—and take a knee.
“Send word to my mother and father,” Juliet says with an authoritative tone, “that I carry the first-ever Nightgardin and Edenvale heir. Send word that I will not marry the Duke of Wartson because I have wed the youngest prince of Edenvale. And send word that any other act of aggression on Nightgardin’s behalf will not be tolerated.”
She flashes me a questioning look, and I nod. She is Edenvale royalty now as much as she is Nightgardin.
One of the guards sneers at Juliet, and in that moment I want to rip his face clear from his skull. But then they rise and retreat.
It’s all I can do to keep from applauding because—well—no one’s dead, yet.
“Good show,” I say under my breath to my willing accomplice.
Juliet stands tall and regal, every bit the princess she’s known to be.
“I wasn’t acting,” she says. “Now I think I’d like to be shown to my room. I’m exhausted.”
Then she strides down the aisle and out the door.
What the hell have I just done?
Juliet
It might be my wedding day, and my first as a princess in a new realm, but I’m still alone in a high tower. I sit in front of the vanity in my chambers, brushing and plaiting my shower-damp hair when there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I call, setting down the silver-handled brush an attendant provided upon my arrival.
Two simple words, and yet my rush of gratitude makes it almost impossible to breathe. For the past two months, no one ever bothered knocking on my door. In fact, it often seemed the Black Watch, Nightgardin’s notorious secret police, took particular pleasure in barging in if I was trying to bathe or relieve myself. I was humiliated and vulnerable every waking hour.
My jaw tightens. I’ll never forgive my parents for that treatment. While I know my affair could have been punishable by death, I was foolish enough to think that they needed me. After all I’m their heir, what did they gain by hurting me?
The door swings open and in rush my fellow princesses of Edenvale, Kate and Evangeline. They are each carrying a basket covered with a white linen napkin.
“Hello.” My face relaxes into an uncertain smile. “Thank you for the visit.”
These women are still strangers, as is this entire kingdom, so I can’t help but look on every kind gesture with practiced wariness.
“We come bearing gifts,” Kate chirps, setting the basket on a table and removing the covering with a flourish. “Ginger scones from the kitchen and still warm. I heard you mention you haven’t been eating at the wedding and thought this might be calm enough for your digestion. Trust me, these are to die for.” She pats her slim hips. “I’ve gone up a size since living in the palace, but Nikolai loves my new curves.”
“And I brought you some art supplies.” Evangeline’s basket brims with adult coloring books and fine colored pencils sharpened to crisp tips.
“You came to attend to me yourselves?” I ask wonderingly. “Why not send servants to do such bidding?”
The two women exchange a short but troubled glance. “You’re our sister now. When you spoke those words binding yourself to Damien, they also bound you to us,” Kate says carefully. “And the child in your belly will be the cousin to any we someday carry.”
Evangeline takes Kate’s hand. “And trust me when I say that quick marriages run in the family,” she said. “We are both more or less newlyweds ourselves. Neither of our husbands had the, ahem...patience...for a state wedding that would require years of planning.”
“Nikolai compromised and promised his future coronation could receive the preparations.” Kate winks, flicking her fiery red hair over one shoulder. “That kept the royal event planners from having a conniption.”
I look at them, a knot forming in my throat. “But you both married men who love you, men who want you. It’s plain to see that Nikolai and Benedict walk on clouds around you. When Damien looks at me it is as if I am you-know-what on the bottom of his bedroom slipper.”
Kate sighs. “Neither of us had easy paths to love, but they were our journeys. You will make your own way to happiness.”
“We had happiness,” I choke. “Three perfect days. And then my family found me and Damien forgot everything.”
“It was beaten from him, Highness.”
We