Page 92 of The Prince and His Stolen Groom
The wedding was only the first part of a long, drawn-out day. Brendon and I were hustled to the dining hall and sat at the long table alone. A line of people stretched all the way down the hall and out the door, back to the ballroom.
Some came with gifts, wrapped in delicate papers and clothes. Some came with apologies, eyeing me sideways as they explained, “Our gift was meant for the princess.”
After the fifth time, Brendon leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I wish they would just give us the lingerie already.”
I choked on my laughter and grabbed his thigh under the table, squeezing it in warning. He snatched up my hand and brought it to his lips, blue eyes sparkling like the gems they resembled.
A heavy thump on the table drew our attention to an oversized package wrapped in black paper.How did they even get that in here?I wondered as I tried to peek around the edge to see who the giver was.
Cyril stood on the other side, wiping his brow. When I’d noticed he and his wife still in the crowd after the wedding, I’d asked the GoodWizard about it, and he’d explained: “You can’t keep the horses in the field once they’ve grown wings.” When I’d just stared at him blankly, he’d amended, “They already know the lands aren’t desolated, nothing I can do about it now.” We all just had to hope that Lucinda kept her husband in line.
I poked the package tentatively. “Is it evil? You didn’t box up one of your minions, did you?”
“Of course not,” Cyril replied, frowning at me. “They would burn the box down from the inside if anyone tried that. No, this is much better.”
Most of the presents would be opened in private, but Cyril tapped the side of the box and the ribbon at the top unwound itself. The sides fell, revealing a miniature scale model of my magic tower. The detail astounded me. I could open the windows and doors and peek inside to see exact replicas of the furniture. Right down to the mess of toys we’d left behind in the bedroom.
“Since you’re moving to Bane, I thought you might want to take this with you,” Cyril explained. “Every mage needs a proper lair.”
My brow furrowed and I looked into the tower again. “You’re not saying … thisismy tower?”
“Much easier to move things when they’re shrunken down.”
While I struggled to comprehend how he’d managed such a spell, Brendon politely thanked Cyril and moved it out of the way. His face was a bland sort of cheerfulness, and I wondered howhefelt about the tower moving with us.
“Do you mind?” I whispered. “I mean, I did lock you in it, you might not have the best memories of it. I can leave it here—”
Brendon placed his hand on mine and grinned. “I think it’s a great gift.” He leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear as he said, “Now I’ll finally get to fuck you in it.”
The temperature in the room rose from the heat in his voice. If we didn’t still have a whole line of petitioners, I would pull him out of the room—no, too far, better to pull him under the table.
A throat cleared and we straightened, Brendon smirking like that cat who’d eaten the canary, and me still struggling to subdue my blush.
Mattias stood in front of us. He’d removed the billowing cloak to reveal a simple black tunic and pants. “I don’t have a gift,” he said, smiling in apology. “But I did want to wish you both every happiness.”
“Thank you. I hope the same for you,” I said with all sincerity. Though I’d recognized him immediately, he’d certainly changed in thefour years since I’d last seen him. A new confidence to the way he stood, a dark determination in his eyes. Evil suited him. I wondered what might have happened if we’d done things differently. If he’d stayed, if we hadn’t grown so close only to push each other away. Somehow, I couldn’t picture that future, my mind shying away from hypotheticals since I already knew of a much better reality. Our relationship was better left in the past, for both of us.
Once he left, Brendon asked me, “Your ex?”
I nodded and said, “I’ll tell you all about it later.”
The line of well-wishers and gift-givers finally tapered off enough that I could see the rest of the room. My parents sat at a separate table with Brendon’s, our fathers laughing together while our mothers shared stiff but polite conversation.
Another line had formed, and I followed it with my eyes, tracking it to Cyril and Lucinda’s table. I realized half the people in line were holding books. They must have discovered her identity as the author Lucy Merriweather, and now our wedding reception had turned into an impromptu book signing.
“Do you see Kit anywhere?” Brendon asked.
I searched the room again and shook my head. “Nope, nor Franny.”
Brendon snorted and said, “I wonder how long they waited before slipping away.”
“Not long,” I guessed.
“Do you think anyone would notice?” He nodded toward a door.
It’d been at least five minutes since anyone had approached the table. Everyone seemed occupied with chatting, food, and each other’s company. I glanced at our parents’ table one last time. “Not if we act fast.”
We slipped out the side door without anyone stopping us.
