Page 64 of Crown of Thorns
The doors close again behind them. The next time they open will be for me. The worst part is, I have no idea who the Guardians of the Crown even are.
Chapter 20
The Vows
This is it. The doors open and the music changes once again and slowly, step by step, we walk up the stone steps of the abbey. And as my uncle and I cross the threshold to step inside so that I can marry Rhys, a cheer goes up through the crowd.
“Woohoo!” Dahlia cheers back, waving her bouquet and making me laugh.
“Decorum, ladies,” my uncle says in a stern tone.
We close our mouths as we make our way through the interior and down the aisle.
The first part of the abbey is filled to the brim with people. Do all these people know Rhys? Surely, they’re not here for me. I know maybe three people and none of them would be here. Or at least that’s my thought until I see Fran and Paul, the men who raised me as their own niece and protected me in secret. In a perfectworld,they’dbe walking me down the aisle. I know that they’re in service to my homeland, but I wonder if they could come here instead. Would that be allowed? I’ll have to ask Rhys.
Fran blows me a kiss as Paul wipes tears from his eyes.
As we move further down the aisle, I see Maeve in her gorgeous dove gray suit with a matching hat on her head. She lifts a lace trimmed hanky to pat her eye as she smiles huge at me. I can’t believe it. My three people other than Dahlia are here, for me!
I feel my smile grow wider knowing that I am also loved here. My people are here. The family of my heart.
The further we move into the abbey, the more important the people are. A sheikh, a prime minister here, the President and First Lady there. All of them smile as they see me, or at the very least, my uncle, the king.
And then there’s the royal pews that sit higher than the rest. I see Saoirse and the earl and a few others. But just past them is the archbishop standing behind Rhys and Taylor looking so handsome in their military uniforms and royal honors.
“George Rhys John Aidan Alexander,” the archbishop begins, “Will you have this woman to be your lawful wife? Will you love her and honor her, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”
“Aye,” he answers, his voice strong and sure. “I will.”
“And you, Estrella Francesca Maria Cordova dela Reyes,” he says. “Will you have this man as your husband? To love him and to honor him, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”
“Yes,” I reply. “I will.”
“Very good then,” he says. “Who gives this woman away?”
“I do,” my uncle says. “As well as the country of San Juan de Baptisto.”
“Thank you,” the archbishop replies. “You may give her away.”
My uncle lets go of my arm and leans close to lift the veil covering my face before symbolically placing my hand in Rhys’s. Dahlia takes my bouquet and fixes my veil, before giving me a wink and taking her place on the opposite side of the altar from their brother, Taylor.
“And now, the vows before God,” the archbishop says.
“I, George Rhys John Aidan Alexander, take thee, Estrella Francesca Maria Cordova de la Reyes, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ’til death do us part.”
“I, Estrella Francesca Maria Cordova de la Reyes, take thee, George Rhys John Aidan Alexander, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ’til death do us part,” I reply.
“Bless Oh Lord, this ring,” the archbishop declares,holding up a gold band for all to see. “Grant that he who gives it and she who wears it, remain faithful to each other and live together until death claims them.”
Rhys takes the ring from him and places it on my finger while saying, “With this ring, I thee wed; with my body, I thee honor; and all my worldly goods, I share with thee.”
The archbishop places the final ring in my hand and I place it on Rhys’s finger. I was surprised when he said that he wanted one since it is not always done. He is not necessarily tied to me in the ways that I am tied to him, but he had said he wanted the world to know that while I am his, he is also mine.
“With this ring, I thee wed; with my body, I thee honor; and all my worldly goods I share with thee,” I say quietly as I slide my ring up his finger.
“It is my esteemed honor with the powers vested in me by the Holy Church of the Isle of Saints, I now pronounce you man and wife,” the archbishop declares. “You may kiss your bride.”
“Gladly,” Rhys replies as he grabs me and places a shocking kiss on my lips, one that is closed but not short and definitely more passionate than should be happening in a historic abbey.
