Page 77 of Wicked Queen

Alexander’s hands settled on my shoulders as I stared around me in wonder. “What room was this?”

“That closet you said we’d never use,” he said.

“Which is a tragedy,” Belle said. “What girl willingly gives up closet space?”

Edward patted her back in sympathy. “We tried.”

“We probably won’t use it too much for a while, but we had the room,” Alexander said casually as though he hadn’t just given me the sweetest gift in the world.

He led me on a tour of the room between hugs from my parents and sister, who’d been invited for the unveiling.

“You keep insisting it’s a boy, so I wanted something neutral,” he said.

“So you asked Edward,” I guessed.

“Exactly.”

They’d landed on a warm gray palette with flourishes of silver. I paused when my eyes landed on the gilded crib. “Is that Elizabeth’s?”

Edward and Alexander exchanged a look. “We moved it in here this morning. She’s outgrown it.”

“I know,” I said softly, but it still tugged at my heart.

The walls had been repapered with a delicate silver damask that caught the afternoon light filtering through the billowing, white sheers beautifully. Rather than the dollhouse that Alexander had placed in Elizabeth’s room, he’d found an ornate castle and surrounded it with stuffed toys: alligators and teddies and tigers. In front of the hearth, two matching gliders upholstered in striped silk sat with a large ottoman.

“Two?” I asked him.

“It will make story time easier if we can both hold one of them,” he murmured in my ear.

I swallowed against the tell-tale rawness creeping up my throat and turned to him. “I love it.”

“And it’s neutral, so you can add whatever you want,” he continued, rolling his eyes as he obviously regurgitated something Belle or Edward had sold him on.

“Stop hogging my best friend and let her open her presents,” Belle demanded, attempting unsuccessfully to extricate me from Alexander’s eyes.

“Stop trying to steal my wife.” He shot her the side eye.

“Fine, but I’m eating the cake.”

“Cake?” I pulled free of him. “There’s cake?”

“Don’t take it personally.” Edward put an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “No man can compete with cake. Not even you.”

The cake was also shaped like a castle, complete with a small moat and drawstring bridge.

“Fit for a little prince or princess,” my mother said, holding a cake knife, “but how do you cut it?”

“Let me.” Lola plucked the knife from our mother’s fingers and stood back to analyze her best course of action.

“Can you get me a minute with my sister?” I whispered to Belle.

“Madeline,” Belle said, wrapping an arm around my mom’s shoulder, “I’ve been wanting your thoughts on my nursery.”

“Well, there are so many options.” She fanned a hand over her chest, deeply flattered by the attention. Madeline Bishop was full of opinions, and I was going to owe Belle for sitting through all of them.

“Hey, I need your help with something,” I said to Lola.

“Me?” She paused, a slice of cake balancing on a server.