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No doubt there are a dozen pieces of footage already circulating with theories on what the Favored Prince just said to his soon-to-be-announced fiancée.
And somehow, his words do help. They remind me that I belong here. With him, yes. But also anywhere and everywhere I go, whether with a prince or not. I can breathe through this moment and step into a fairy tale, even if I don’t yet believe it will last.
Torben gestures for me to take the lead, and I descend the stairs, trying not to focus on my sweaty palms as I steady myself on the railing. Thankfully Sable put me in heels only as high as I know how to handle.
I pause at the bottom of the stairs, look into the faces of all the people, and the facts hit home. I’m really here, in a completely foreign country.
They are cheering and waving at me. People are waving flags of Gravenland and of the U.S., and it tugs at my heart. They…already like me? Did the king and queen already approve the match?
I have to push back the feelings that all of this is insane and let it all wash over me.
Even if this is a total fiasco, strangers cheered for me. Strangers reached out to shake my hand (now I understand why Sable insisted I wear gloves), smiled at me, and asked for autographs.
I’ve been given the polite words to turn down selfies because it takes too long.
The king and queen have already left without saying hello. Okay, that’s weird, but I’m good with postponing that meeting as long as possible.
I take cues from Flora, Torben, Etienne, and Sigurd, who have a rehearsed way of flowing down the carpet, alternately waving and shaking hands, and paying extra attention to teens, children, and the elderly. A blocky-looking limousine awaits us at the end of the carpet, and we all pile in. Flora takes the footman’s hand and daintily floats in. I’m not versed in this etiquette, so I flop into the car sideways as usual, then resume waving and smiling at the crowd.
When the door closes, a strange lump forms in my throat that I’m not anticipating.
“Hailey, what is wrong?” Torben’s voice is measured, but I hear the worry in it.
I shake my head, but I can’t hide that I’m gasping for air. “I can’t breathe. I need air. May I open a window?”
“What’s happening to her? Did she eat shellfish on the plane?”
“Of course not,” Torben barks at his brother Etienne.
Flora, who’s facing me, reaches for my hand. “Darling. You’re feeling panicked. You’re overwhelmed by everything, and I understand completely. Go ahead and ruin your makeup if you need to.”
“Why…why would she ruin her makeup?” Torben asks.
My pretty, pretty prince. He cares so deeply, but sometimes he doesn’t get it.
Flora’s right. I’m trying not to cry in front of everyone because I’m too embarrassed.
“We’re family now, as far as I’m concerned,” Flora says. “You are safe to let it all out.”
Oh, I’m going to like my new sister-in-law.
I blurt, “I don’t know why I feel like crying when I’m so happy. I don’t want to make you uncomfort—”
And that’s all the syllables I get out before the tears clog my throat and my eyes leak.
Flora clucks. “Dear, you are not making anyone uncomfortable.”
“On the contrary,” Etienne says, his voice edged with a tone I can’t identify. “Tears make me extremely uncomfortable.”
“Same,” grunts Sig, who rubs his beard and stares out the window.
It may take a while for the brothers to warm up to me. That’s fine.
Torben clasps one of my hands between his two big ones, and Flora passes me a tissue.
“Ignore those oafs and let it all out, sister. We’ll fix your makeup before we meet Mother and Father.”
The anxiety of that upcoming meeting dries up the tears faster than anything.
