AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Great minds find opportunities even in the midst of chaos,” agreed Rafael. “Where’s Amy?”
“Not drinking, obviously.” Artur laughed. Rafael had never seen him as happy as he was with Amy. For most of his life, Artur had been the scapegrace brother, the one who seemed to care most about having a good time. The media had loved him but few had respected him…up until he did some growing up. Since Amy had come into his life, he’d turned things around, taking responsibility and stepping up to be the prince his nation needed—not to mention the husband and soon-to-be father he wanted to be for his family.
Rafael took a sip of the whiskey the bartender had just handed him to disguise his jealousy.
“She’s with Felicity, at the final fitting,” Artur continued. “They’re going over other wedding day details. Surely, nothing you need to know anything about.”
“Surely,” echoed Rafael. Going over wedding day details seemed a little silly at this point in the process. With the wedding taking place the next day, everything should be already set in stone. But what did he know? Maybe Felicity had confided in Amy the same thing she’d expressed to Rafael—that it felt like someone else’s wedding. He was still stewing about that. Rafael had never, and would never, have a wedding as anything other than the king of Stolvenia, so he wasn’t entirely sure what kind of control Felicity expected. And if she expected complete control—well. That would be an exercise in frustration. Royal events were always massively complicated.
He felt Artur looking at him. “What is it? Are you getting cold feet?”
“About the dinner?” Rafael joked.
“About the wedding,” said Artur, crooking one eyebrow.
Rafael let out a sigh. There was no one in earshot—even the bartender had taken several steps away to give them a modicum of privacy. “There’s been some…friction between us.”
“Regar
ding?”
“Regarding the fact that Felicity doesn’t think this is her wedding. She feels like she’s been on the outside of the whole process.”
“In a way, she’s right.” Artur had had his own royal wedding.
“Yes, but I can’t find a way to tell her…” He shook his head. This was not the kind of thing he was used to putting in words.
Artur wasn’t having it. “You can tell me, you know. I’m not going to go running to the press. My days in that kind of spotlight are over.”
“Fine.” Rafael was exasperated on perhaps every possible level. “The wedding ceremony is the least of my worries. It’s just another ceremony.” He waved his drink in front of him as if he were batting away the ceremony itself. “It’s an important one, to be sure, but the most important part is the marriage. And maybe I brought her here at first because of the referendum, and because I wanted Hope to be raised in Stolvenia, but now…marrying her isn’t for the public. But it seems that she can’t see that it’s not for the public.”
“Oh no, it certainly is.” Artur sipped his own drink. “All of what we do is for the public, but maybe you’re looking at it the wrong way.”
“What way is that?” Rafael swallowed another burst of frustration with a sip of whiskey.
“Perhaps…” Artur studied him. “Perhaps you’ve been thinking of this as a way to…distract our citizens. To entertain them.” He lifted his own glass. “God knows I was good at that. But the purpose of what we do is actually to serve the people.”
There was a stab of guilt if he’d ever felt one. It was precisely what Felicity had been trying to get at. He’d brushed her off. “Of course,” he said lamely.
“You know, I think the majority of our people only want to see you happy. And you have been happy since you’ve brought Hope and Felicity here, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” The truth was there, all in one word. “It’s been hard, but I’ve been happy. I never knew how much I wanted—” His throat tightened. “I never knew how much I wanted to be a father until I met Hope. I never knew how happy that could make me. I didn’t know anything could make me that happy. I thought I could only look forward to being the best king possible.” He had to admit, at least to himself, that he hadn’t even done that lately. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t loved every moment.
“It’s Felicity who seems a little less happy, if you ask me. Sometimes, the way she looks in pictures…” Artur shrugged. “It can be difficult, with the press attention. Maybe she needs more time.”
“Did you start the party without us?” Amy’s voice cut in, and Artur’s face lit up at the approach of his wife. She stepped to his side and he wrapped one arm around her, laying his palm on her belly and grinning down at her in a way that bordered on breaking the modesty rules. Then he kissed her, and all that flew out the window.
Rafael became aware of Felicity standing at his side, looking at the other couple with an expression that was caught between envy and curiosity. She looked absolutely stunning, in a white sleeveless dress and a low tiara, but when she turned to him he didn’t see much joy. Only duty.
“Well,” she said dryly, keeping her voice low and confidential. “While those two lovebirds are at it, we should get some champagne.” She laughed. “That’ll be completely fine according to protocol, right?”
That, as far as Rafael was concerned, was the high point of the rehearsal dinner.
Once Felicity heard they had a delicious brand of white wine at the bar, she settled for that. Rafael went for his customary red. After a few moments, Amy detached herself from Artur and the two of them joined the little clutch by the bar. Artur followed Rafael’s lead with the red wine, and Amy had a sparkling cider. By the time Amy had a chance to ask Felicity how she was doing with the runaway freight train that was a royal wedding, other guests were filtering in—including a few photographers.
Rafael watched as Felicity straightened her back and smiled at Amy, her face perfectly calm. “Oh, I’m all right,” she said. Nothing in her face betrayed the doubt he knew she felt. Artur caught Rafael’s eyes but said nothing. “All this…” She waved around the room, putting on a bigger smile as she did so. “It’s the way things are.” Felicity sounded perfectly calm when she said this, but as the dinner progressed, Rafael knew it wasn’t true.
Felicity sat at the table, back straight, face carefully arranged. She was meticulous with her silverware, every movement constrained.
