Page 110 of Royal Reluctance

Epilogue

Spencer

Spring flowers cover everyavailable surface.

Tulips, daffodils, and tall iris. Pansies, peonies and tiny bouquets of lily of the valley. Boughs of lilacs and forsythia and even more plants that I’ve never seen in Laandia.

I’m not a flower person, especially since I have no reason, nor a person to gift flowers too, but even I have to admit it’s impressive how many blooms they were able to collect in the six weeks they’ve been planning the wedding.

There are more flowers here than there was in the forest during Bo and Hettie’s first wedding.

Watching them do it again is just as meaningful.

I’m not the only one smiling.

Bo can’t take his eyes off of Hettie as makes her way between the rows of chairs set up in the Queen’s study.

King Magnus insisted on the full religious ceremony, even though Bo fought against having it in the church. He also did everything he could to have the ceremony outside, even though with the constant rain, occasional snow and chill, late April isn’t the best time to do anything outside.

Bo’s theory was anywhere was better than inside the ball room, and came up with quite a few options, which included the town hall in Battle Harbour, The King’s Hat pub, and Abigail’s parents’ house. Fenella Carrington offered her nightclub, and there was talk of one of the barns on the England’s—Edie’s parents—farm.

I’ve never seen him with that level of tenacity and determination, but every one of his arguments faded as soon as Magnus suggested the Queen’s study for the ceremony.

That worked for him.

With the chairs and the flowers and the people, the room doesn’t look much like the comfortable study where the Queen used to sit with friends, family, and foreign diplomats. But I know Bo has the memory of the last time he was here with his mother fixed in his head, like she’s able to be there if he thinks about her hard enough.

Everyone is thinking about her, so I like to think Queen Selena is with us somehow.

Bo might have his mother in his thoughts, but he’s looking at Hettie like she’s the top donut on the rack and he can’t wait to make her his.

It might not be the best analogy but I was in the castle kitchen before the ceremony and they had freshly baked donuts for the sweet table and they looked really good.

Tema practically drags Hettie the last few feet to where Bo and I stand. Abigail stands opposite, her hands full of tulips and delicate white blooms, her eyes full of tears. Rather than her father walking down the aisle, she and Bo decided it would be Tema, wearing a white dress with a fluffy tulle skirt over pink cowboy boots.

Why my father would buy her pink cowboy boots is anyone’s guess, but I think it had something to do with Dad showing her a video of one of their concerts and Tema pointed out his boots.

She probably said they were cool, and then of course, he had to buy her a pair. I’m not sure who spoils her more—Dad or the king. I wonder how Tema’s other grandfather can compete, but I’ve heard talk of a trip out to see the whales on his boat when the weather is warmer, so my guess is that he’s biding his time.

Hettie is wearing white as well. I remember her in a pink dress for the first one, and while she had been pretty, the white gown with the tiny train makes it all seem real, rather than teenagers playing at being married.

It was the one thing I remembered from before—it never seemedreal. It was like the four of us had been sucked into one of Bo’s dreams, that we weren’t really there.

I know I never realized the ramifications of the day until later, after Hettie left. It was my idea not to tell anyone about the wedding, and Bo didn’t need much persuading.

I always thought she would come back. And I know I wanted Abigail to. Not going against Bo’s wishes to look for them might have been my way of punishing them.

I’m not proud of that.

Abigail and I stand up for them at the far end of the Queen’s study under an archway of flowers and watch Bo and Hettie say their vows to each other. The first time around was a quick service, but Hettie wanted to make this one last.

“It’s the last time I’m going to marry you, so let’s make it a good one,” she told Bo. “Flowers. Poems. Written vows.”

“Written by us?”

Mabel and Odin were selected as poem readers and did very well. I organized a five-piece chamber music group to serenade the guests, and did my best to help Bo with his vows.

Bo, being Bo, wouldn’t take much help, but whatever he’s stumbling through has brought tears to Hettie’s eyes, so I think he’s doing all right.

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