Strike at Midnight(99)

“Is he being arrested for the crime, then?” I asked, and Prince Andrew frowned at my stupid question. Of course they were arresting him for the damn crime. He’d confessed to a Knight of the First Order, for goodness’ sake. What is wrong with me?

“Rella…” he said, daring to put a hand on top of my own. “Are you sure there is nothing wrong?”

“If he’s now caught, that means I’m free to go back home. I’m free to go back to who I was before.”

The disappointment that clouded his handsome features for a moment made me understand exactly what Mia had meant when she had said I needed to make a decision for his sake. All of this holding out on him and giving him mixed signals was cruel, and it had been affecting him in a way that I had been blind to. Even his father had seen it, and that was why he had told me in the gardens that day that he would not see his son get hurt. And I was hurting him. I was hurting the man who I was so very much in love with, and I hadn’t even realized how much until this very moment.

Here he was again, giving me the independence to make a choice—even though it pained him to do so—and I still wasn’t giving him the answer or closure he needed.

My heart raced at my one last desperate attempt to try and find a reason for saying no to actually marrying this man in front of me, but I couldn’t seem to grab a hold on a good-enough reason anymore.

I could ask for more time. More time for us to see if we could make this work. More time to see if we were actually right for one another. But he deserved more than the uncertainty of a long courtship after what he had given me.

No. If I wanted him, I needed to take that step. I needed to take another huge risk to combat my fears.

Mia’s words spun around in my head once more, and I couldn’t deny that the succinct meaning behind them had resonated with something deep inside me. Along with the sweet tenacity of the prince, her words had chipped away at the guard I had put around myself all these years. Now it was up to me to smash through the rest.

“Ask me,” I said to him eventually, and he gave me a confused look.

“Ask you what?” he asked, and I dared to shuffle forward so I could look into those enchanting eyes of his.

“Ask me,” I whispered, saying it again, and this time he seemed to understand. His eyes didn’t move from mine as he stood up from his chair and got down on his knee in front of me.

He took hold of my hand, kissed it, then said, “Ariella Defonte, Cinderella, Rella Rosewood. Please, would you do me the honor of making me the happiest man in the world by becoming my wife?”

“Yes,” I found myself saying, knowing he had been the answer to my truth all along. He had been from the first moment he had asked me to dance, and I didn’t want to fight it anymore. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”





CHAPTER THIRTY

Happy Ever After





It was the evening of my wedding ball, and I had finally escaped for a few moments into the bedroom that I would be sharing with Prince Andrew from this moment forth.

It was a lovely room, and he had told me he’d had it redecorated as a wedding gift to me, so I could feel more at home. I had let out a mighty chuckle when I had seen it because aside from the subtle hints of blue and pink that he had said represented us—and my hair—he had arranged for some of my ill-put-together furniture to be thrown in with his grand furnishings. He had even arranged for my beloved clock and chipped mugs to be brought over because apparently, Melody had told him that I like to have a dirty-cup-collection thing going on from time to time.

It had been perfect, and I couldn’t help but be both nervous and excited for when we hit the sheets tonight. It had been running through my head for most of the day.

It had only taken the prince and his staff two weeks to arrange the wedding, so it had been a bit of a whirlwind from the moment I had a ring on my finger.

My mouth had been the instigator of many a colorful curse as I had been shifted from the Royal Dressmaker to the Royal Milliner to the Royal Baker—and I’m sure there were a butcher and candlestick maker in there somewhere. But it was all a bit of a blur. The end result had been breathtaking, however, and I couldn’t help but be impressed with what they had thrown together in such a short amount of time.

Melody, and even Marcel had shed a tear when I had started to move out my things from the inn. It had been my home for so long that a part of my heart would always be with it, and I had cried with them. We had parted ways with red noses and bloodshot eyes, and I had threatened them that they needed to come and visit me often, otherwise I would have them arrested.

Rem had decided to stay on with them and had taken up permanent residence in my room. He’d had an upgrade on the furniture—courtesy of the prince replacing it when he had taken mine—and Marcel had told me that he seemed lighter because of it.

Maple had been designated as Rem’s horse and became a roommate to Ginger. And Jessie was now brushing noses with the posh mares that graced the royal stables. She seemed happy enough with the move, and I’m sure she’d had a smug expression on her face when we had rehoused her. That horse was made for royalty.

The Duke of York had been found in the Kingdom of Sindina, and it turned out they had given him the memory of a baker who went by the name of Bertie Butterworth. His memory had been restored by a potion given to him courtesy of Mia, and he had been working with Sir Raymond and Rapunzel ever since to try and work out who the other names were in the ledger.