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I looked at him. “Do you remember that night when I asked you to tell me the negatives to marrying you?”
“Yes, I do believe I told you that you would have to learn many palace rules. To which you said, ‘Ugh! That’s almost my life now,’” he said, his voice rising higher as he mocked me.
“First off, I do not sound like that. And second, you snuck the rules in with other stuff, just like a lawyer, to get me on the fine print,” I muttered.
He chuckled. “It is not my fault—”
“Sir. Ten seconds,” Iskandar interrupted, and I could not believe how easy it was to forget other people were near when Gale was around.
“Leave your purse. Iskandar, do not let it out of your sight. It is important,” he said quickly, and he reached over to grab it from me.
There was no time for me even to think. All of a sudden, the door opened, and the sunlight and fresh air came in. Gale stepped forward, outstretching his hand in front of him. And for the first time in my life, I was grateful for all the pageant practice I went through as a child, as well as my mother training me on how to get in and out of cars in heels.
Holding the flowers, I exited the vehicle. With Gale holding one hand, I heard people's voices and the clicks of cameras behind me. I wanted to look back but remembered what Gale had said, and instead, I looked at my feet, stepping up the polished stone stairs, walking forward. I realized I would have no idea if I were giving the flowers to the queen since my head was down. I had to trust that Gale was leading me to the right place. It was the longest and shortest walk of my life.
“Your Majesty,” Gale said to his mother, “I present, Odette Rochelle Wyntor of Sunrise, Washington.”
He let go of my hand, and I figured that was my cue, so I curtsied—or did what I thought was one—putting one leg in front of the other and bending down as low as I could, bowing my head down further, lifting the flowers up to her in front of me.
It wasn’t as quick as I thought it would be.
I waited there for a minute before I felt another hand on top of mine as the flowers were slowly taken.
“Welcome to Bellecoeur Palace, Odette Rochelle Wyntor.” Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper.
I wasn’t sure if that meant I could rise, so I stood still.
“You may rise.”
I looked up to the older woman as I stood up slowly. She gave me a small smile and a nod.
“Thank you.” Was I supposed to say thank you to the queen?
“Come,” she said, and I followed her up the stairs.
When we got in front of the door, we turned back to face where I had walked from, and I could see people were already at the gates. Not five or ten people, more like a hundred, maybe two. How? Everything just happened this morning. When I saw a photographer step forward, I tried to keep my face pleasant and free of all thoughts.
There was no counting of the snapping of photos. Just as quickly as he came forward, he moved to the side. The car Gale and I had arrived in was now long gone. The people behind the gate were all that was before us now.
Do not wave your hand like someone cut it off. Be slow, graceful, like you are petting the air, and remember, we use our secret smiles for the judges, Odette, okay? Show me your secret smile.
My mother’s voice came to mind as the queen lifted her hand to wave. Raising my own slowly, gracefully, just like when I was a kid, I petted the air and used my secret smile, which had been her way of saying, do not smile with my teeth showing. We were like that for a few moments before the queen spoke.
“Let us go.”
And how everyone else heard her was beyond me, but as she turned, everyone else did, so I did too. She walked forward, and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to, but I did anyway. When we stepped inside, I noticed an M on the stone at my feet and a chandelier above me, hanging from a painted ceiling. In front of me was a large, long, marble staircase that went up to a platform where the stairs were divided into two different sets before proceeding up the sides. In the middle stood a white statue, which looked like an altar with red drapes behind it and the family crest under it.
“Less than seven hours, Gale?”
I jumped slightly, looking to see where that stern thunderous voice had come from, but the only person to speak was his mother. She handed off the flowers to some gray-haired woman as she spun on her heel to face him. The look of gentle serenity was gone. It wasn’t only her who had changed. Eliza stepped up, put down the dog, and kicked off her heels, sighing as her bare feet touched the stone.
“Six hours and fifteen minutes to be precise, Mother, and I had things to do!” Eliza complained, taking off her earrings and putting them into the hand of a woman beside her.
“Oh please, as if you ever get out of bed by noon anyway, Eliza,” Gale shot back.
“I do too!”
“Yeah, sure, and I am marrying the pope.”
