Majesty (American Royals, #2)(88)
Nina swallowed. “I’m falling for you, too.”
Ethan laced his hands over her shoulders, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. A few bystanders, seeing them kiss, let out low whoops of approval. Nina smiled against his mouth, leaning further into the kiss—because now, for a little while longer, it didn’t really matter.
A low, droning noise echoed through the air. They both looked up, to see a formation of military planes flying overhead in an elaborate zigzag formation. The aircraft seemed awfully low to Nina.
“Is this some sort of salute?” she started to ask, as the planes swooped still lower—and their cargo hatches flipped open. A bright floral rain fell from the sky: pink and white roses, hydrangeas, and of course cherry blossoms.
The crowds seemed to shout out in a single voice as the flowers fell on their heads, making it momentarily look like the capital had dissolved into swirling pink-and-white waves.
Laughing, Ethan drew a stray petal from Nina’s hair. “I think that’s our cue to get going.”
* * *
It was a bit disorienting, stepping from the vibrant chaos of the streets into the palace’s cool, beeswax-scented calm. Nina had hastily changed out of her shorts and into a gown, which she’d bought online last month; after the way her last dress had been mysteriously “canceled,” she no longer trusted the boutiques in the capital. The gown was beautiful, its lavender silk so pale that it almost looked silver, with a gathered neckline that showed off Nina’s bare shoulders. She’d tucked back her curls with bobby pins, but anyone who stood close would smell the sunshine on her hair.
In the crowds of people making their way through the entrance hall, Nina caught sight of Marshall Davis, dressed in a crisp tuxedo and accompanied by a couple who must be his parents. His grandfather, the current Duke of Orange—wearing the scarlet robes of his position, and a ducal coronet, made of gold with eight gleaming prongs—walked alongside them.
To her own surprise, Nina called out Marshall’s name. He looked up, startled, then muttered something to his parents and started toward her.
“Nina. Hey.” Marshall spoke warily, as if he wasn’t sure what she wanted with him; and really, Nina didn’t know either. She drew to one side of the crowds, near a massive porcelain vase.
“I just…I wanted to see how you’re holding up,” she ventured.
Marshall’s mouth curled with a hint of amusement. “Don’t worry, I can handle myself without Sam for a while. Believe it or not, this isn’t my first royal wedding. I was at Margaret and Nate’s, at the redwood grove outside Carmel—”
“I meant the media attention,” Nina cut in clumsily. “Marshall—I know how it feels, being put through the wringer for dating a Washington. I’m here if you ever want to talk about it. There aren’t many people who really understand, you know?”
Hearing her own words, she remembered the day Daphne had told her the exact same thing—Trust me when I say that I understand. I’m probably the only person who understands. But unlike Daphne, Nina thought adamantly, she meant it.
Marshall shifted his weight. Suddenly, Nina caught a glimpse of what Sam saw in him: that behind his swagger—which was more an endearing, boyish charm than actual arrogance—he was startlingly vulnerable.
“I’d be lying if I said it’s all been smooth sailing, but Sam is worth it. I really care about her, you know.”
“I know.” When she’d first heard about this whole fake-relationship stunt, Nina had been so certain it was a terrible idea. She was glad Marshall had proved her wrong.
“Besides,” he went on, and now that cheeky tone was back in his voice, “the media coverage has been getting better. I think the nation is starting to fall for me. And really, who could blame them?”
Nina huffed out a laugh, though Marshall was right. She’d seen the tone of the comments shifting in recent weeks. Of course, plenty of people still didn’t approve, but more and more Americans were rooting for him and Samantha. Perhaps because they saw the genuine happiness on both their faces, and realized that this was something real. Or perhaps because they, too, were people of color, and liked seeing a Washington with someone who looked like them.
“Speaking of Sam, I was going to find her before the ceremony starts,” Marshall added, glancing over his shoulder.
Nina nodded; Ethan was probably waiting for her in the throne room. “Right. See you later.”
The foyer had thinned out in the last few minutes. Nina picked up her steps, turning into the main central hallway—just as Prince Jefferson turned the corner.
He was wearing the most excruciatingly formal version of his ceremonial uniform, complete with gloves, and a saber and scabbard that positively glowed. Dressed in all that crimson fabric and gold braid, he seemed unfairly handsome, like the hero of some romance novel who’d stepped out of the pages and into real life.
When he saw her, Jeff sucked in a breath.
For a long moment the two of them just stood there. Nina imagined the silence flowing around them like a river, swirling with invisible eddies and currents as it grew ever deeper.
Looking at Jeff, Nina didn’t see him as her ex-boyfriend, or even the handsome prince of her adolescent daydreams. She saw the Jeff who had been her friend, the little boy she used to run around the palace with, hunting for secret passageways with Sam.