The Wild Heir(92)

“I’m going to freeze my ass off,” I tell her.

“And I’m sure you’re going to look very chic while doing it,” she says. “Now come on. We have to make you into a blushing bride, not an angry one.”



This is surreal.

I’m standing in my wedding dress in an ornate and gilded room in the royal palace staring at myself in the reflection of a floor to ceiling mirror.

I’m alone.

I requested I be alone.

I needed a moment to just let everything sink in. Otherwise, I don’t think I’ll remember a single moment of the day. It’s hard when there are a million people rushing about you like there has been all morning.

There were copious amounts of hairdressers and makeup artists and wardrobe ladies. Photographers who captured every moment of the getting ready process. Well-wishers whom the Queen led into the room just to get a peek at me and say hello.

I felt like a mannequin on display, nodding here and there, especially as a lot of the time they were speaking in Norwegian and I couldn’t understand a word that they were saying. I can only hope it was good.

But now, now I have a moment to breathe.

A moment to take it all in.

I have to admit…this is the best I’ve ever looked.

There was a team of beautifiers, so I can’t take any of the credit, but my skin has never glowed like this before, my eyes have never looked so sensual and expressive, my lips never been so supple. My hair is piled into an updo with a few strands framing my face. My dress fits me like an absolute glove.

The only thing missing is the tiara.

I take in a deep breath.

Was there even a back-up plan in the event that he didn’t show, or he forgot to bring it? I mean neither my father or Schnell are getting any younger, it’s possible they forgot to even dig that crown out of storage.

Breathe, I remind myself. Remember what Jane said. Go along for the ride.

I take in a deep breath.

Let it out.

There’s a knock at the door.

I give myself one last look, smoothing out my dress, and say “Come in.”

“Ella?”

The door opens a crack and my father sticks his head in.

Oh my god.

It’s him.

“Father?” I say, taking a step forward.

I can’t believe it.

Surreal indeed.

My father opens the door wide, a tentative smile on his face, the tiara shining in his hands. He’s wearing a black tux with a long jacket and a red sash across the front, his most formal outfit.

I know I saw him about a year ago, but somehow, he looks different and it’s not just the formal garb. He somehow looks less intimidating, if that’s even possible.

My father isn’t as old as Magnus’s is, he’s in his early-sixties, but I’ve always built him up in my head to be this aging overlord or something. Perhaps because all of his official photos seem to take this sinister slant and when you spend half your life living away from him, those photos become default memories.

But here, as he stands before me, he looks spritely and younger.

And kinder.

Maybe it’s because he’s looking at me with a tenderness I’ve never seen, maybe it’s because he’s holding a tiara in his hands, one meant for me.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier,” he says and while I know that we’re not making any moves to embrace each other, I’m still touched that he’s here. “King Anders has been talking my ear off since the moment I arrived.”

“He’ll do that.” I pause. “How does he look? He’s been sick…”

I haven’t seen him lately and I know Magnus has been worried about how he’s going to handle everything. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to do anything formal during the ceremony except stand when I come down the aisle.

“Oh, he’s been better,” my father says. I get the feeling he wants to tell me more but that’s not his nature. “I think he’ll do just fine today, however.” He takes a step toward me and holds out the tiara. “This is for you. I’m sorry it’s late.”

“It’s not late,” I tell him. “It’s perfect timing.” I give him a shy, hopeful smile. “Will you put it on?”

“It would be my pleasure,” he says, concentrating as he raises it up and places it on my head. “Oh, I really hope I’m not messing up your hair.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

“You know this is your mother’s tiara originally.”

This takes me by complete surprise. “I didn’t know that.”

He nods, frowning as he tries to get it in just the right position. “I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about her.” He steps back and smiles, and I swear I see tears in his eyes. “There. You look just like her.”

We have so much to talk about. Now that he’s here and he’s here for me, I just want to sit him down and ask all about my mother, ask about my childhood, ask about him. Everything. Just start over.

But time isn’t on our side today. I am more than grateful that he’s here right now and he’s going to walk me down the aisle, but what happens when this day is over and he goes back home? Where does our relationship go after that? Will it evolve now that I’m an official princess, a future queen? Or will it fade away as it always does? After I see him at Christmas, we’re always back to our old distant ways before the Christmas decorations are even taken down.