Twice Upon A Time (Unfinished Fairy Tales #2)(9)
“I don’t believe this. This can’t be real.”
He raises one perfect eyebrow. “Of course it is. Look, there is a camera.”
I don’t see any around, but suddenly, a flash goes off. “Did someone just take our picture?”
This is insane. But he just smiles and pats my arm. “Don’t worry, Kat. It is typical for the press to snap a few pictures for the morning paper.”
And then he takes my hand and starts down the stairs. Numbly, I stumble along with him, numerous questions swimming in my mind. I look around wildly, but nothing, absolutely nothing, seems to resemble anything I’ve experienced before.
The buildings are too old-fashioned—yellow or brown, with arched windows and turrets—something that looks straight from a historic European town. There isn’t a single car, nor any traffic lights in sight. And the crowds that are lined up along the main road ahead, held behind wooden barriers and waving flags and banners, are all dressed in historic costumes. The men wear either top hats or caps, while the women are in large skirts and shawls. Some women also wear hats wreathed in flowers or decorated with feathers. None of the women wear pants or shorts. Even though it’s warm enough that I don’t feel chilly in my short-sleeved dress, not a single woman is showing any skin below the waist. It’s like shorts and mini-skirts don’t exist.
Oh, my God. That episode of Outlander must have come true for me. I’ve tumbled through time and ended up in some historical period in Scotland. Only it looks more fancy and royal.
“Kat.” Edward squeezes my hand. “Our carriage is waiting.”
The carriage is in fact an open-air vehicle that lacks a roof, with luxurious crimson velvet seats, a gold-rimmed door, and stallions that pull the carriage with matching crimson puffs on their heads. Surrounded by a legion of liveried soldiers and several coachmen, it’s just like the procession seen in Prince William and Kate’s wedding.
“Oh, my.” I bite down on my lip and feel pain. “I can’t get on that thing.”
An urgent look flashes in his eyes. “We must. The people are waiting. It’s part of the tradition.”
“To sit and be gawked at, like an exhibit in a museum?”
He makes a choked noise, like he’s suppressing a laugh. “Worry not, for there are two of us. Now, if you will not walk on your own, I shall forcefully carry you to the carriage and throw you in, whether you like it or not.”
Annoyed at his imperious tone, I glare at him. “This playacting had better end soon, because no way am I marrying you for real.”
“When you recover your memory, I doubt you shall maintain the same resolve.” He lowers his voice to a whisper, and a wicked gleam flares in his eyes. “More than once, you told me that there was nowhere you’d rather be than in my arms.”
“I don’t know what kind of lovesick fool you’re talking about, but that is not me.” Still, my traitorous mind conjures up an image of me snuggled against that broad chest of his, and I’m sure a blush has crept into my cheeks.
When we approach the carriage, a man dressed in a splendid crimson tunic and golden brocade takes off a plumed hat and bows to me.
“Your Highness.” He offers a large, meaty hand. I glance at the carriage seat, which has an alarmingly high foothold situated at the height of my waist. Considering the awfully fancy and binding gown I’m wearing, I am forced to admit that I need the help.
I put my hand on his palm, take a deep breath, lift my skirts out of the way, and step on the foothold. The next second, the prince takes my other hand and eases me into the seat.
“Allow me,” he says in an amused tone, and promptly straightens the tiara on my head. Before he pulls away, he whispers, “Relax, Kat. Just smile and wave at our people, and soon, we’ll be on the train.”
Our people? Since when did I acquire . . .
“It’s the princess!” A little girl cries out, pointing a chubby finger in my direction. She’s sitting on her father’s shoulders. “I can see her, Papa! It’s Princess Katriona!”
Without thinking, I wave to her, which elicits a surprised gurgle of laughter. “She saw me, Papa! The princess saw me!”
A whistle blows shrilly, and then we’re off. Jolted by the sudden start of the carriage, I unceremoniously fall back against the seat with an “oomph!”
Fortunately, only the takeoff is so jarring. The road we’re traveling on is well-paved and smooth, even though it isn’t asphalt. Plus, the carriage is sturdy and heavy, and the thick padded seats are a balm to the bum. Because of this, I’m able to follow Edward’s example, convince myself that I’m a huge royal celebrity, and keep smiling and waving like a mannequin, even when my lips become dry and chapped and my arm feels like it’s going to fall off.
“Here they come!”
“Look, there’s the prince and his new bride!”
Not all reactions from the onlookers are positive, though. One middle-aged guy, a cigar in his mouth, stares at me with a mixture of scorn and disappointment.
“That is the princess? I thought she’d be more . . .”
A loud hushing sound drowns out the rest of his sentence. I sneak a surreptitious glance at the prince. It’s a bit deflating to the ego, but yeah, I have to admit that if looks were the only thing considered, he could do better. I can be pretty when I have the right makeup and hairstyle, but I know that I’m a far cry from beauty queen material.