The Wrong Prince (21 page)
Authors: C. K. Brooke
LUCIE PRACTICALLY BOUNCED BACK TO the lawn. The guests were still seated, albeit restively. She glanced up at her new groom, and the pair fought to contain their mirth. How could it be that their families had known all along, simply having confused one crucial, simple detail?
King Marco was speaking in hushed tones to the royal announcer, who seemed confounded. The guests looked on as Dmitri and Geo switched places, with Geo facing Lucie, the elder brother behind him.
“Most esteemed guests, I’ve been instructed to inform you that the wedding party has been…modified.” The announcer cast a hesitant glance at the king, as though giving him a final opportunity to change his mind. When the king only nodded impatiently, he continued. “The groom shall instead be His Highness Georome Straussen. The bride shall remain the same. Thank you.”
The gathering produced more noise at this, and though it was mostly sniggering, it was an altogether welcoming sound. The queen hid her face in embarrassment.
The priest reopened his missal. “Let’s try this again, shall we?” he suggested, and the guests laughed openly now, along with Lucie. “Ah.” The old man found his place. “At this time, you may please cross your wrists and join hands in a symbol of your destinies intertwined.”
Lucie couldn’t subdue her smile as Geo and took her hands. They crossed wrists, not peeling their eyes from one another, while the priest incanted the blessing. The ensuing moments poured out verbatim to the deepest, most longstanding dreams that had been secretly etched onto Lucie’s heart, manifesting into a wonderful new reality she’d have never dared to hope was possible. Geo was to become her husband!
At the appropriate time, Sir Will stepped forth bearing the nuptial bracelet. Lucie’s eyes widened at the band forged with dozens of amethysts, illumining purple in the late morning sunlight.
“I had suggested this,” Geo told her quietly, “for you.”
“It’s magnificent.” Lucie watched as he fastened it around her wrist, and knew she would never, ever remove it.
The priest blessed the bracelet, then Lucie’s womb, and proclaimed their two hearts one. Her pulse kicked as Geo tucked aside her veil-adorned hair, fingering her cheeks and neck with warm, firm hands before bringing his chest against hers.
He kissed her, slowly at first, but steadily escalating in passion. Lucie was vaguely aware of the crowd rising to their feet in applause. She was enraptured by Geo’s embrace, relishing the flavor of his mouth and the flying sensation in her gut. How incredible that, after so many fleeting, forbidden kisses exchanged in secrecy, they now kissed freely, in plain sight of their families—and the country.
Their lips parted, and the priest pronounced them wed. Geo continued to hold his new bride, oblivious to the cheering congregation. “I shall evermore cherish you, Lucie Straussen,” he avowed, nuzzling his nose to hers. “My heroine.”
This time, Lucie was the one to kiss him. They remained interlocked in each other’s arms, throughout the concluding announcements, even as the guests began to take leave for the reception. Lucie felt as complete as she would ever be.
Who knew that loving the wrong prince could turn out so right?
THE END
Atasi:
Ah-TAW-zee
Belbarc:
BELL-bark
Dmitri Straussen:
D’m-EE-tree STROW-zen
Cerise:
Sur-EEZ
Ekianic:
Eck-ee-ANN-ick
Georome:
Jeer-OHM
Geo:
JEE-oh
Halvea:
Hal-VAY-ah
Ira:
EER-ah
Llewes:
Looz
Llewesian:
Loo-WEE-shin
Luccia Camerlane:
Loo-CHEE-ah CAY-mer-lane
Lucie:
LOO-see
Pavola:
PAW-vo-la
Pavi:
PAW-vee
Tybiria:
Ty-BEER-ee-ah
It’s always a delight bringing another manuscript to publication with 48fourteen. Thank you, Juanita, for believing in my books and pulling for me. Everything I am as a writer is because you took a chance on me. Denise, your editing is simply genius. You are my secret weapon. I’m so proud to be part of Team 48fourteen!
To my dear husband, Jeff, who set up a whole room in our new house that I could use for an office—allowing
The Wrong Prince
to be the very first novel I wrote sitting at a proper desk, and not lying on my belly in bed—thank you for your unlimited support!
Michele, it’s about time I dedicated a book to you. You’ve been reading since the very beginning, always the first set of eyes I trust with my earliest drafts. I continue to feel so humbled, blessed and amazed at the beautiful friendship that’s unfolded between us through sharing our writing and our hearts (which is really one and the same thing). Thank you for being my mentor. I’m so glad my grandmother was your aunt!
Finally, to you, reading this: thank you for coming along on my adventures. Having readers is the best part of being an author!
C.K. Brooke is a stay-at-home mom and author of fantasy and romance. Her debut novel,
The Duchess Quest
(48fourteen, 2014) was a Shelf Unbound Top 100 Notable Indie Book of 2015. Since its publication, she has written seven more titles, including
The Duchess Inheritance
,
The Red Pearl
and
The Wrong Prince
, all published by 48fourteen, and
Capturing the Captain
, the first installment of the American Pirate Romance series, with Limitless Publishing (2016). When not blissfully buried in her eBooks and manuscripts, she enjoys feeding her addiction to info-tainment podcasts, fangirl-ing over Marvel movies, blogging, singing and playing the piano by ear. She currently lives in Washington, Michigan with her husband and young son. Visit her website and subscribe to her newsletter for more epic adventures and book love.
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HIS MOTHER’S WEEPING WAS A weight on her heart. Shivana fingered the vellum in her pocket as another tear dribbled down her cheek. It was all because of this accursed paper that her love, the man she was to wed, with whom she was supposed to share a long and prosperous future, now lay motionless before her.
“Why, Ricardo?” She gave a single stroke to his onyx hair, while his sisters wept into their hands. Why had the hunt been so important? Had he truly believed it worth his life, and all else that he would lose? Had he believed it worth all that
she
would lose, without him?
His mother and sisters began chanting alongside the priests, and Shivana cast a furtive glance at the cluster of cousins and other kinsfolk gathering in the little chapel. The burial was imminent. It was now or never.
Subtly, she extracted the vellum from her skirts, and tucked the folded square into the dead man’s vest. Her heart drummed as she took a single step back from the coffin, praying that no one had noticed.
“Fare thee well, dearest,” she bade him, drawing one final, tearful glimpse of her beloved. Her wooden shoes clapped against the flagstone floors as she returned to the pew. The map would be buried with him. No other man would lose his life in pursuit of the evasive treasure. And no other mother, sister or lover would mourn as she and the Rivera family did that day.
Straightening her teal skirts, Shivana Azul resumed her lonely seat on the hard bench. Despite the ache in her breast and the empty void she knew she would never refill, she felt some trace of finality, of satisfaction. For the greater good, she had done what she needed to do.