Page 38

C HAPTER 38

HOURS UNTIL THE CORONATION: TWELVE

I’m going to marry Theodore Geoffrey Edward George, again (for real this time), in a floral-embroidered tulle gown. The pink, purple, and orange flowers remind me of a certain Greek sunset from several months ago, and if I thought my life felt surreal then, nothing could have prepared me for the moment my apocalypse dog dragged me through the starry gardens at Buckingham Palace, on my way to marry a king.

Last time, I told myself that it didn’t matter, that it wasn’t real because it wasn’t legal, but I couldn’t shake the inescapable feeling that marrying Theo on that beach meant something. This time, marrying Theo is probably the most life-altering decision I’ll ever make, but it feels more like crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s on the paperwork for a choice we already made.

“Did you know that Theo left me at the altar the first time we tried to do this?” I whisper to Victoria as we sneak through the darkened gardens. The palace was buzzing all day in anticipation of the coronation, and it took until hours past sunset for the halls to quiet down enough for us to sneak out. There will be a lot of angry people in Buckingham Palace tomorrow, but that’s a problem for daylight. Tonight is for making our own destiny.

“He’s not skiving off this time.” Victoria points toward the rose garden, where three figures wait in the dark.

My pulse thrums in anticipation.

Henry meets us on the path to the rose garden with a handpicked bunch of roses held loosely in his fist. “Heard you’re the reason I’ve been kicked off the throne.” His voice cracks with suppressed emotion, and my stomach pitches in guilt.

I’ve been so focused on how this news affected Theo and me, but Henry’s the one whose entire life was blown up. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s completely fine.” He says the least believable thing in the history of man and forces a fake smile.

“Do you want to leave?”

He slants me a pained look. “And go where? Inside, to confront the father who’s been lying to me for my entire bloody life? I can’t emphasize enough how much I don’t want to do that, so even though I feel like I’m dying inside, I’m here to support my brother. And you, because you’re going to be my sister.” He must see the guilt on my face, because when I open my mouth to apologize again, he holds up his hands. “I’m serious. I’ll deal with my looming existential dread in the morning.”

“Theo’s lucky to have you,” I tell him.

“Damn right. And I’m about to steal his title as the saddest, moodiest, most miserable bastard in the palace.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Does everything have to be a competition?”

“Yes,” he says seriously as he offers me the roses. “Careful where you hold them. I’m bleeding in three places.”

I cautiously pinch the flowers between my fingertips and tell myself that it’s not at all a bad sign that my bouquet can double as a weapon.

“Did you see anyone on your way here?” Henry asks Victoria.

“No. Why? Did you?”

His eyes scan the palace grounds, lit only by stars and moonlight. “No… I don’t think so, anyway.” He looks around a final time.

A shiver runs up my spine and I clutch the flowers on instinct. “Ow!” I draw in a breath as blood drips onto my ivory gown. “Crap!”

Victoria quickly unties a ribbon from her hair and wraps my palm. “You didn’t let Comet have the ring, did you?”

“No. Why?” I touch the chain around my neck for reassurance and take a deep breath.

“Just making sure nothing else can go wrong.”

“Don’t take too long. Theo’s losing his mind waiting for you, and the archbishop just wants to go to bed.” Henry salutes as he jogs backward away from us.

Victoria straightens the back of my gown, and I start to walk toward Theo, but stop after a few steps. I turn to her. “Should there be music?”

“How would I know?”

It’s weirdly quiet out here, now that I think about it. There’s a reason that brides don’t walk down the aisle in silence; the eye-contact situation would be awkward for everyone. “I think there should be music.”

Victoria raises her eyebrows. “I didn’t bring my phone. Did you?”

“No.” I glance back at the rose garden. Was it always this far away? “Can you sing?” I ask suddenly.

She puts a hand on her hip. “What song?”

“Something romantic?”

“‘My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard—’”

“Stop!” I brandish my weapon-bouquet at her. “Don’t ever do that again.”

She rolls her eyes. “Will you just walk?”

I do, but Comet gets bored or distracted on the way and dashes in the wrong direction across the dark grass.

“I’ll get him. You keep going,” Victoria calls as she runs into the dark. Which is how I finally make it to the rose garden with a bloodstained dress, humming a twenty-year-old meme song under my breath, without my maid of honor or chief bridesdog. When I lock eyes with Theo, however, none of those things matter.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi,” he says back. Even in the starlight, I can see his cheeks turn a shade of pink that makes my stomach flutter. “You look beautiful.”

“So do you,” I tell him as my own face heats. “I mean, good. You look good. Perfect?” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m nervous.”

“Wren, this is the Archbishop of Canterbury.” He nods to an old man in gold robes, and it’s a credit to how good Theo looks in his dark suit and tie that I didn’t notice an old man in gold robes until now. “Your Grace, this is Wren Wheeler.”

“Your Grace! Wow, that’s… um… fancy titles for everyone over here.” Sweat drips down my back.

Henry smothers a laugh while I cringe at my own rambling. I appreciate the archbishop doing this for us, but I weirdly miss having our wedding officiated by an old Greek fisherman with cake crumbs in his mustache.

Victoria is out of breath when she finally leads Comet into the rose garden by his collar. Our dog has half a tree branch in his mouth. “What did I miss? Are you two married yet?”

“The archbishop was just telling me he would like us to move the ceremony to Westminster,” Theo explains. “I know it’s not what we pictured.” He passes a hand over the back of his neck, and I realize I’m not the only one who’s nervous.

“You’re right. I’ve changed my mind.” I turn and pretend to run.

Theo grabs my hand and yanks me into his chest. A flush of heat rushes through me as his gaze burns into mine. “If you’re going to leave, tell me now and put me out of my misery.”

I tilt my chin up and run my fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck. He shivers and presses a soft kiss to my lips, and I realize I’d choose him anywhere. On a beach in Greece, an island in Portugal, or an old church in London. My chest almost hurts with how much I’m feeling, and I pull away as tears prick my eyes. “Westminster it is.”

Theo’s eyes flash. He looks like he has a hundred things he wants to say, but before he can, Henry claps his hands together, breaking the spell. “I’ll drive.”

Buckingham Palace is less than a mile from Westminster Abbey, and the archbishop decides he wants to walk. (I’m sure it has nothing to do with Victoria saying she’s going to play “Milkshake” on top volume, or Henry laughing chaotically when Theo asks which car he’s going to take.) I slip off my shoes and Theo, Comet, Victoria, and I walk across the grounds and meet Henry on a side street, where he’s rolled up in a classic convertible Aston Martin with the top down.

Theo cocks an eyebrow. “How is this more discreet than just walking to the church?”

“Relax. It’s almost midnight,” Henry says as he reaches across the front seats and opens the door. Theo, Comet, and I climb into the (cramped) back seat while Victoria takes the passenger seat next to Henry. He peels away from the curb and floors the gas pedal. I hit the back of my seat hard as Victoria turns the radio all the way up.

I glance sideways at Theo as the car races down the sleepy London street, and my stomach bottoms out. I try not to think about sinking ferries and falling planes. “Does he know what he’s doing?”

“Slow down,” Theo says to his brother.

“Hang on.” Henry readjusts the rearview mirror. “I think someone’s following us.”

Victoria, Theo, and I all whip around to see a car tailgating us. A camera flashes and spots of light burst across my vision.

“Is your seat belt on?” Theo asks. I nod and try to slouch down in my seat, but there’s no room that isn’t already being taken up by Comet.

“Should I try to lose them?” Henry yells.

“No!” Theo growls. “Just take us to Westminster.”

“They’ll follow us to the church,” Henry says. “I’m going to try to lose them up here.” He makes a sharp turn that throws me against Theo’s side. The panicky feeling in my chest grows. I look back at the car and my lips go numb when I see that it’s still following us. I close my eyes, throw one arm around Comet, and grasp Theo’s hand.

“Stop the car!” Theo barks.

“Just give me a second. I know I can lose them,” Henry protests. He turns up another narrow side street, weaving around parked cars. Victoria screams at Henry and throws her hands over her head. The tingling numbness extends to my hands. I draw in a jagged breath.

“Slow down!” Theo orders, and Henry finally lets off the gas and flips a U-turn to take us to the church. I crane my neck to see the car, and my pulse hammers when I see how close it still is; its bumper nearly touches ours as Henry slows to a stop at an intersection. I make eye contact with the driver, and goose bumps race across my arms.

“It won’t back off,” I say as a sick feeling of dread washes through me. I try to take a deep breath but can’t get enough air. There’s a pressure slowly crushing my chest, cutting off my airway, and I’m shaking all over. Henry rolls our car forward, and another series of camera flashes blind me. I tear my eyes off our stalkers, spin around in my seat, and barely have time to register the second car that appears from a side street before it slams into us.

The crunch of metal on metal makes my stomach pitch. Victoria screams. The Aston Martin spins across the road, crashing over the curb and into a tree. By the time I look up, choking on a cloud of smoke, the other cars have peeled away from the scene.

“Is everyone okay?” I blink through the smoke and check Comet for signs of injury. My hands are shaking so violently that it’s painful.

“I think so.”

“I’m good.”

“Not hurt.”

My knees tremble as I unbuckle my seat belt and hike up my dress to climb out over the side of the car. My bare feet hit cold sidewalk, and I walk around to look at the smoking, crumpled front corner of the car. My stomach drops, and I can’t breathe. I’m back in the water after the plane crash, plunging toward the ocean floor.

“What do we do now?” Victoria rubs her neck. Behind her, the pointed arches of Westminster reach into the starry sky.

My gaze rises to meet Theo’s. His face is ghostly pale.

“This is still happening, right? I didn’t cock up the wedding, did I?” Henry looks between Theo and me.

“You and Tor go in. Wren and I need a minute.”

My panic rises as they leave. I close my eyes and breathe slowly through my nose, fighting off the familiar warning sirens in my head that scream to untangle myself before I run out of air.

It’s the dress, I decide. The dress is too tight.

When I open my eyes, Theo is crouched in front of the damaged car. “Someone could have been killed.”

I remember thinking the same thing after being chased in Toronto, and the wedding dress and fancy car don’t make this time any less awful. “Almost dying is what we do best,” I quip to cover my anxious energy.

Theo looks wordlessly at me, his expression pained. “Wren,” he says softly, and I realize too late that joking about this isn’t going to make it any less terrifying.

“I know,” I say. We both look wordlessly up at Westminster, and I see our future as clear as the illuminated church. If Theo and I get married tonight, we’ll spend the rest of our lives hiding from the press and fighting with the Firm. And the craziest part of all? I still think it might be worth it.

“Wren—”

I cut him off, because my name sounds all wrong. “Call me Wheeler,” I say, grabbing his hand. “Better yet, call me American girl. I always loved when you did that.” He pulls his hand out of mine, and tears burn behind my eyes.

“Wren—” he says again, and this time his voice breaks on my name. “I love you more now than I did at our first wedding, which is why I can’t let you stay. You won’t be happy here.”

I feel like I’m climbing up sand, scrabbling for purchase as the ground caves beneath my feet. “Does it matter what I want?”

His eyes search mine. “Why do you want to marry me?”

“Because I love you.”

He looks like he’s in pain. “And why do you want to be queen?”

What kind of question is that? “Because you’re the king.”

His expression crumples, and he looks like he’s pleading with me. “If that’s all you’ve got, then you’re going to regret giving up your choices. You deserve a future made on your own terms.”

“What terms?” I cry. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Theo! I’ve never felt so lost in my life. If I go back home, everyone else has their life figured out, and I can’t even pick a major! All I know is that I love you, and if I’m the queen, I’ll have plans and a purpose again. I want that. I’m excited for it.” I push the words out in a desperate plea, and only realize they’re a lie once I’ve said them.

I want to be with Theo, but neither one of us wants it like this.

Immediately, it’s easier to breathe. “Leave with me,” I say quickly.

Theo’s eyes widen in shock. “What?”

“Tonight. Right now. Let’s go. You’ve run away once; you can do it again.” The pressure on my chest eases, each word bringing me closer to the surface.

Theo glances around the empty street, his mind calculating. After a long moment, I see the instant he gives up on us. He straightens his spine, a note of bitterness in his voice. “And what would that future look like for us?”

I close my eyes and see nothing but black. I can’t even conjure a hazy daydream of Theo and me in this impossible, hypothetical future, but I don’t care if it’s easy or clear or makes immediate sense. I want it anyway.

“I’m leaving tonight. Are you coming with me or not?”

His mouth twists as he blinks away unshed tears, and his silence is my answer. I pull my eyes away from his, so he won’t see me fall apart.

“You said I won’t be happy here, but are you happy?” I ask.

“Being royal has very little to do with happiness, Wheeler.”

Wheeler. It strikes me right in the heart. “Don’t call me that.”

Pain flashes across his features, and I can feel the weight of a backpack strap pulling me to the ocean floor. My lungs burn for air, and I realize he’s right. If I stay, I’ll drown.

I yank the chain from my neck and let it slip through my fingers. “You deserve to be happy too, Your Highness.”

Tears blur the sight of Theo’s ring landing on the ground, and I take off running into the black.