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CHAPTER 3

AMELIA

Carefully I take a sip of the iced coffee that’s been placed in front of me, making sure not to drop any of it on the white robe I wear, or to smear any of the lipstick that’s been painstakingly applied to my lips.

“Nervous?” Shannon asks as she sits beside me, going over a few last-minute bullet points.

“Very,” I admit, willing my arm not to shake, willing myself not to show the weakness I feel in this moment.

“It’s all going to be over within the next hour to an hour and a half,” she reminds me.

It’s insanity that I robbed myself of any sleep last night over an hour and a half of my life. But I did. I stayed up, going through everything bad that could happen. Wondering what the pictures and headlines would be if I tripped over my own foot, or on a crack, and landed with my rear end up in the air. What if I snorted or smiled with something in my teeth? What would the world say about me then? Those were the thoughts that kept me up last night.

They aren’t the only thoughts that kept me up, though. Another part of me stayed awake, wondering what it would be like to be with Tristan all the time. What going to bed with him at night, waking up to him in the morning will be like.

“I know.” I give her a smile, trying the expression out, hoping that the muscles allow me to make it. I can feel the corners twitching, but I relax, realizing I can in fact, smile today.

The cell phone the royal family gave me vibrates at my side. How anyone has my number, I’m unsure. I don’t even have my number. Quickly I use my thumbprint to unlock it, which again I wonder how they were able to do that without me around, but I don’t question it. What’s waiting there is a text from Tristan.

T: I’m heading down your way in the next twenty minutes. If you need more time, let me know. We’ll meet the press and the people together. Can’t wait to see you again, Amelia.

My hands are back to shaking as I read what he’s sent me.

“How much longer do you think I’ll be?” I ask Shannon. “Tristan says he’s heading this way in the next twenty minutes. He doesn’t want me to have to walk alone.”

“We’ll have you done by then, I promise.” She claps her hands, much like she did the night before, and gets to work.

A: I’ll be ready and waiting. Thank you for thinking of me. I can’t wait to see you again either .

Placing my phone back down on the vanity, I take a minute to compose myself. It’s not every day a king texts you. These last few hours have been some of the craziest of my life.

“Shannon.” I tilt my head so I can see her. “When will Tristan be crowned?”

“Six months from yesterday, and then you’ll be expected to be married the following week,” she explains. “It’s the custom, but not many talk about it. No one wants to believe that arranged marriage is still a common practice in the second decade of a new century, but as you can see, it is. You have time to get to know him, I promise you that.”

Her words encourage me, give me hope that he and I will be able to make this work, that we’ll be comfortable with each other before we have to walk down the aisle together.

“What am I wearing today?” I square my shoulders and take the last drink of my coffee.

“Another dress. This one will be a turquoise color, with lace up and down the arms, and it’s long, so it will cover your legs. It’s very cold today. You’ll be able to wear a jacket, but we want you to keep it open so that your dress can be photographed.”

Of course, because now I’ll be center stage, where everyone will want to know who I’m wearing, what I’m wearing, and the name of my hairstyle. There are certain things I’m not prepared for, and this might be one of the biggest. I’ve never been the type of person who had to be the center of attention, and since Tristan is one of the most sought-after bachelors in the world, we’ll both be there now.

“Your hair and makeup are done.”

Finally able to get up, I move over to the window, allowing myself to look out for the first time. There’s a crowd gathered among the snowy roads. If someone were to ask me to describe it, I would say minus the people, it looks like the perfect winter postcard. Water flows slowly through the river that surrounds the palace, plumes of chimney smoke can be seen for miles as it helps heat the homes of the people who’ve flocked to see us, tree branches hang low with the weight of snow on them. But then there are the people. As far as the eye can see in front of the gates. There’s no telling how long they’ve been there, how cold they are, or if they’ll even get a chance to catch a glimpse of us. There are signs held up, some that say Tristan I reach down, gripping my other hand around Tristan’s as we make our way toward the crowd that’s gathered. There’s a decided chill to the air, but his fingers and palm are the warmest I’ve ever held .

“Thank you for coming,” he tells the crowd. “I know it’s a bit cold this morning, and you all probably would have liked to be inside.”

“Then you wouldn’t be able to turn away from us and take your leave,” one of the photographers teases as the rest of them laugh.

“You know I hadn’t thought about that, Richard.” Tristan gives him a smile. “But thank you for giving me a good idea for later.”

“Perhaps some coffee next time?” he continues.

“Would you also like me to provide cream and sugar? Maybe some flavored syrup?” Tristan plays along with him.

I’ve seen interviews of Tristan and he is so at ease with everyone. I want to be more like him, but at this moment, I’m frozen. Not sure how to act, and all I can do is keep my fingers wrapped up in his and a smile spread across my face.

“Flavored syrup would be divine.”

“I’ll make a list for next time, Richard. Promise.”

One of the other photographers cuts Richard off. “Tristan, is this your fiancée?”

“Yes.” He smiles over at me, and the look he gives me is one that’s so loving I have to remind myself that this right here? Isn’t real. Not yet. “This is my beautiful fiancée, Amelia.”

“Where did you all meet?” someone else asks.

“At a birthday party.” I give Tristan a little wink as we share an inside joke.

They eat it up, the flashes going insane as we stand there, staring at one another.

“Two things.” Another voice cuts into the crowd. “We want a kiss and the ring, Tris. Don’t hold back from us.”

“The ring.” He brings our entwined hands together, showing them the ruby. “Was my mother’s. I presented it to Amelia last night, and she said yes.”

“And the kiss?”

He turns to me, widens his stance slightly, cups my face with his hands, and leans forward, giving me the softest kiss I’ve ever had. It’s nothing like the rollercoaster ride into passion we had last night. This one is measured, soft, delicate, and everything a young girl dreams of when she imagines this moment. When he pulls back, our eyes meet, and I’m pretty sure everyone from here to the United States can feel the chemistry between us. He leans in for another, before I can stop him, tilting my head opposite of his. This one heats up more than it should, and it isn’t until we hear a few whistles from the crowd that he physically sets me away from him.

Tristan clears his throat, and I reach up, wiping the lipstick off his lips. He gives me a smile, as he turns those lips into my palm.

Little do we know at that moment, that picture will be the one that makes it all the way around the world.