Page 39 of A Heart Too Tender

Colette

The carriage bounces along the cobblestone street as the bell chimes after each wedding on Heart’s Night. The ancient celebration of everlasting love between souls is a traditional wedding day for most to be wed, but especially for royalty.

I take a peek outside to see every flat, unmovable surface is draped in reds, pinks, and creamy whites. Bouquets of roses with petals the size of birds scent the air a heavenly floral fragrance.

Cheers of the kingdom swell in waves as bells continue to chime.

Twisting my hands in my lap, the gauze of my veil conceals most of my face. My father shoots me a knowing smile.

“Are you nervous?”

I breathe out a laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

“I was just as nervous to marry your mother.”

“He’s just—so perfect,” I concede, a smile stretching across my face.

My father takes my hand in his. “And so are you, darling.”

The bell tower chimes seven times signifying the hour of the evening as our carriage arrives at the palace doors.

The layers of silk and organza of my gown resemble that of the clouds that had glittered next to the sun all day and make it extremely difficult for me to squeeze out of the carriage.

My father gives me his elbow and leads me to the doors. Our steps are paused as a shadow moves outside the torchlight.

“You look as lovely as ever,” an ancient feminine voice purrs.

My cheeks blaze a brilliant scarlet matching the roses in my hand. “I assume I have you to thank for all this.”

The witch moves into the glow of the torchlight, draped in the finest silk of a most familiar color—pea green.

“You are most deserving, my child.”

Father looks from me to the witch and I nod as he releases my arm so that I can step closer and clasp hands with her.

“I hope to repay your kindness someday.”

“You already have,” she replies with a roguish smile. “Letters from every unwed royal on the continent began rolling in last night.”

Relief lightens the weight on my chest as my eyes begin to burn. “I am so glad that your station has been restored.”

The Witch Mother slowly lowers into a curtsy, dipping her chin with reverence. “Your ceremony awaits, my dear.”

I lower my chin in acceptance before taking my father’s arm and waltzing through the palace doors.

A stunning display of servants lined the walls leading to the throne room and my pulse rises with each step closer to him.

“Just take a deep breath,” Father whispers. “And try your best to remember each moment of it. You’ll blink and it will all be over.”

August

The doors open and I’m struck mute by her beauty as my eyes line with tears. She is everything I ever dreamed of and much, much more. It takes everything inside of me to not run to her side now. Her father stands proud and tall at her side, a brilliant smile on the man’s face. But it’s nothing compared to the glimpse of her smile that I can see through her veil.

The trumpets blast with each step she takes and it feels as if time slows. They pass rows of noble-born from Wimberley and Silver Hills, but a few dear faces make an appearance too; Charles and Maude sit near the front rows, as does Princess Zuri and Prince Leo. But slipping through the crowd is a familiar figure in green silk. She stands beside my mother and boasts a victory smile.

As they near the dais I take a few steps down, my arm outstretched awaiting hers. My royal uniform is the darkest shade of navy much like the night sky, but a trim of red matches the roses gripped tightly in her hand.

“Take care of my daughter,” King Osmond says, placing her hand in mine.