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It was pure pageantry at its finest. Triple the number of military guards were scheduled for a fortnight’s time, when she and Helios would return to the cathedral to be crowned King and Queen of Agon.
In the sky were dozens of helicopters, sent from news outlets across the world to film the event.
Unbelievably she, Amy Green—a woman abandoned as a two-week-old baby by her birth mother, a woman who had never been quite sure of her place in the world—was going to be Queen of Agon.
Helios would be King. And it was the woman who’d abandoned her who’d made it all possible.
According to Helios, Theseus had turned the colour of puce when he’d sat his two brothers down and explained the situation to them. As Helios had suspected, Theseus had reluctantly agreed he would take the throne but only if all other avenues had first been explored.
Constitutional experts had been put on the case, to no avail, until Talos had come up with the bright idea of changing the constitution, rightly pointing out it had been changed numerous times before.
A meeting with the Agon senate had been arranged, and there the president, who, like all the members of the senate, was sympathetic to the Crown Prince’s plight, had murmured about how much easier it would be to bring about the constitutional change if the bride were of Agon blood...
A referendum had taken place. Of the ninety per cent turnout, ninety-three per cent had voted for changing the constitution to allow a person of non-royal blood to marry into the royal family, provided that she was of Agon blood.
And now, as the carriage pulled up at the front of the cathedral, where the cheers from the crowd were deafening, Amy was helped down. She stepped carefully, so as not to trip over the fifteen-foot train of her ivory silk dress, handmade by Queen Rhea’s personal designer, Natalia.
How she loved her dress, with its spaghetti straps and the rounded neck that skimmed her cleavage, the flared skirt that was as far from the traditional meringue shape as could be. Simpler in form and design than both Queen Rhea’s dress and Helios’s mother’s dress, it was utterly perfect for her. And it was lucky she had insisted on something simpler considering they’d had to expand the waistline at the last fitting, to take into account the swelling of her stomach...
She and Helios had taken the decision a couple of months ago for Amy to come off the contraceptive pill, both of them figuring that it would take a good few months for the hormones to get out of her system. The hope had been that she would conceive after their coronation.
Whoops.
A month after taking her last pill Amy’s breasts had suddenly grown in size. Their baby—the new heir to the throne—was due in six months, something they had decided not to make public until after their coronation. Naturally half the palace knew about it.
Greta had been given Corinna’s job at the museum and was thoroughly enjoying bossing Amy about. Amy had gone back to curating King Astraeus’s exhibition and then, when the exhibition had closed, she’d taken on the role of museum tour guide. It was a job she would be able to fit around the royal duties she would have to take on when she was crowned Queen.
Helios still thought it appropriate to give bloodthirsty Agon history lessons to children in the dungeons.
In all, everything had worked out perfectly, as if the stars had aligned for them.
Jo stepped forward to adjust Amy’s veil, having to stretch to accommodate her own swollen stomach, which was fast resembling a beach ball, and then it was time.
When her arm was held tightly in her father’s, the doors of the cathedral were thrown open, the music started and Amy took the first step towards the rest of her life.
The congregation rose as one, every head turning to stare. The first face she saw was that of Princess Catalina, who, as gracious as ever, smiled at Amy with both her lips and her eyes. When the press had bombarded her with questions about Helios and Amy’s marriage her statement of support for them had been heartfelt and touching.
Surely somewhere in this packed cathedral stood a prince in need of a beautiful, elegant princess to make his own?
In the back row was the woman who had made all this happen—Neysa Soukis, there with her husband, and their son, Leander. It was amazing how the thought of being Queen Mother had spurred Neysa to recognise Amy as her child with enthusiasm and thus proclaim her a child of Agon blood. No doubt Neysa had imagined this moment many times, had thought she would be sitting in the front row of the congregation.
Alas, Neysa had soon learned that the only place she had in Amy’s life was as a name on a piece of paper. Elaine—her mum, the woman who had raised and loved her—would be the officially recognised Queen Mother.
