Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)(122)
Nikolai and I exchanged glances and shook our heads. While Andreas and I never missed an opportunity to sneak a dig at the other, I had a much easier relationship with Nikolai. Another brother, albeit by marriage rather than blood, and I didn’t want to murder him half the time.
After the formal exit procession, the guests filed out of the cathedral, and soon, I found myself in the palace ballroom, impatiently waiting for Bridget to arrive.
Only five hundred people received invites to the coronation ball compared to the thousands at the ceremony, but that was still too many people. All of them wanted to shake my hand and say hi, and I indulged them half-heartedly while eyeing the door. At least my lessons with Andreas came in handy—I remembered everyone’s titles and greeted them accordingly.
My pulse kicked up a notch when the Sergeant at Arms’ announcement finally rang through the ballroom. “Her Majesty Queen Bridget of Eldorra.”
Triumphal music played, the doors opened, and Bridget swept in. She wore a lighter gown than the ornate affair she’d donned for the ceremony, and she’d replaced her crown with a more wearable tiara.
She waved to the crowd, her public smile firmly in place, but when our eyes met, a hint of playfulness crept in.
I excused myself from my conversation with the Prime Minister of Sweden and made my way through the crowd. For once, I didn’t need to use my height or build—everyone parted when they saw me approaching.
The perks of being the future Prince Consort, I supposed.
By the time I reached Bridget, she had half a dozen people fighting for her attention.
“Your Majesty.” I held out my hand, cutting off a woman who’d been gushing over her dress. The crowd fell silent. “May I have this dance?”
A grin played at the corners of Bridget’s mouth. “Of course. Ladies, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me.”
She took my hand, and we walked away with six pairs of eyes burning into us.
Bridget waited until we were out of earshot before saying, “Thank the Lord. If I had to listen to Lady Featherton compliment my outfit one more time, I would’ve stabbed myself with the spikes from my tiara.”
“We can’t have that, can we? I very much like you alive.” I rested my hand on the small of her back as I guided her across the dance floor. “So, you’re officially queen. How does it feel?”
“Surreal, but also…right.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how to explain it.”
“I understand.”
I did. I felt much the same way. I wasn’t the one who’d been crowned, of course, but we’d waited and planned for so long it was strange to have the ceremony behind us. We’d also had time to get used to the idea of Bridget being queen, and now that she was, it felt right.
We always end up where we’re meant to be.
“I know you do.” Bridget’s eyes glowed with emotion before she made a face. “I can’t want to get out of this dress, though. It’s not as bad as my coronation dress, but I swear it still weighs ten pounds.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll rip it off you later.” I lowered my head and whispered, “I’ve never fucked a queen before.”
A chuckle rose in my throat at the deep blush spreading over Bridget’s face and neck.
“Do I have to stop calling you princess now?” I asked. “Queen doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as nice.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare. By royal decree, you’re never allowed to stop calling me princess.”
“I thought you hated the nickname.”
I spun her around, and she waited until she was in my arms again before saying, “As much as you hate when I call you Mr. Larsen.”
I used to. Not anymore.
“I was joking.” My lips grazed her forehead. “You’ll always be my princess.”
Bridget’s eyes shone brighter. “Mr. Larsen, if you make me cry at my own coronation ball, I’ll never forgive you.”
My smile widened, and I kissed her, not caring if PDA was against protocol. “Then it’s a good thing I have the rest of our lives to make it up to you.”
BRIDGET
Three months after my coronation, Rhys and I returned to the Athenberg Cathedral for our wedding.
It was as grand and luxurious as one would expect of a royal wedding, but I worked with Freja, the new communications secretary, to keep the reception as small as possible. As queen, I couldn’t have a friends-and-family-only party for diplomatic reasons, but we cut the guest list from two thousand to two hundred. I considered that a major victory.
“I’m jealous,” Nikolai said. “You only have two hundred people to greet. My hands nearly fell off at my reception.”
I laughed. “You survived.”
We stood near the dessert table while the rest of the guests ate, drank, and danced. The actual wedding ceremony had gone off without a hitch, and as much as I enjoyed seeing my friends and family let loose, I was counting down the minutes until I could be alone with Rhys, who was currently talking to Christian and a few of his friends from the Navy.
He hadn’t expected his military buddies to come, since he hadn’t spoken to them in so long, but they’d all showed up. Whatever worries he might’ve had about seeing them again, they seemed to have disappeared. Rhys was smiling and laughing and looked perfectly at peace.