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I give him a small nod, the courtiers open the balcony's glass doors, and the thundering screams of his people filter through as if in stereo.
Augustine gives my hand a pull, and we walk out onto the balcony, and below us is a sea of happy, smiling faces that lose their mind when they finally see the two of us.
I look out into the ocean of people waving flags from both of our countries.Wow. I’m blown away by that.I wave to the crowd and can feel their love radiating back at me. I’m overwhelmed with emotion as I try not to shed the tear that feels about to fall.
Augustine looks over at me and my heart soars when I see his face. The next thing I know, he is pulling me to him and kissing me ever so gently, making the crowd go wild. He gives me a wicked grin, turns, and waves to the crowd one last time before we are ushered back inside the palace for our press conference.
“You both did so well,” the queen greets us with warm hugs.
“I’m proud of you,” the king tells Augustine.
I sense that the king doesn’t dish out compliments like that normally to his son. I’m happy I was able to help him achieve that because Augustine deserves to have all his accomplishments acknowledged.
“Now, the fun begins.” The king gives us a grin. “Don’t let the vultures get to you,” he tells us.
And now I’m freaking out.
We follow another courtier down another hall toward where the press conference is being held.
“I need a drink.” I tug on Augustine’s arm, my mouth feeling awfully dry suddenly.
“Jacob, the princess requires a glass of water before we go on.” The courtier nods and moments later he brings back an ice-cold bottle of water. I take a sip through the straw so as not to mess up my lipstick, and the cool liquid quenches my throat.
“We’ve got this,” Augustine says confidently.
I spent all last night in media training prepping myself for today, and I felt confident then that I had it, but now, not so much. Augustine squeezes my hand once again, his way of subtly reminding me he’s with me as the courtiers open the doors to the press conference room, and we are immediately blinded by the flashes from multiple cameras. I hold onto Augustine’s hand as he guides me through the room to the spot we need to stand in for our engagement photographs. The lights are blinding as I smile through it all. My cheeks hurt, but I continue smiling so everyone can get the picture they desire for whatever publication they are with.
One of the courtiers tells everyone that is enough for the moment, that the flashes are blinding, and to give us a break. I see stars as I flutter my eyelids, and it takes a long time for my eyes to focus normally again.
Augustine and I are shown to a lounge set up in front of a media pack where we take our seats and pose for some more pictures before we get down to the questions.
This is the part I am dreading.
The first question is fired.
“How did you know Princess Rosalie was the one for you?”
Right, we are just diving straight into it I see.
“A light shines from deep within Rosalie that draws you in. She is kind, funny, smart, and beautiful. She isn’t looking to change me. She accepts all my faults and flaws. It is the perfect combination for a future queen,” Augustine tells them.
“Princess Rosalie, why did you say yes to the prince? We understand that this year’s Summer Ball was dedicated to him finding a wife. So, we understand this isn’t a love match?”
Wow. That’s a direct strike at me.
“This may not be a traditional love story. As you say it was widely known that this year’s ball was about finding the prince a wife.” I look over at Augustine who gives me a reassuring smile. “We may only have known each other for a small amount of time, yet, it feels like I’ve known His Highness for a lifetime. It’s like finding a missing part that you didn’t realize you were missing until you have found it,” I answer, hoping to explain it all in a way they will understand.
The press all seem to nod, so hopefully, they are in agreement.
“Your Highness, Princess Rosalie’s family has quite a checkered past. Are you worried that her family’s past transgressions might come back to haunt you?”
What the hell?
Shocked by the line of questioning, the prince squeezes my hand, and I can tell he is shaking with fury.
“I’m sure if we dug a little deeper intoyourpast, we would find skeletons too,” the prince states to the reporter, who now looks ashamedly told off.
The prince gestures to another reporter to ask their question.
