Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)(123)



“Barely,” Nikolai joked before his smile faded. “I’m glad things worked out for you and Rhys,” he added softly. “You deserve it. When I abdicated, I didn’t think…I never wanted to put that kind of pressure on you. And when I realized what it meant…what you had to give up…”

“It’s okay.” I squeezed his hand. “You did what you had to do. I was upset when you first told me, but it all worked out, and I enjoy being queen…for the most part. Especially now that Erhall is no longer Speaker.”

Erhall had lost his seat by half a point. I’d be lying if I said the news hadn’t given me immense pleasure.

I had, however, worried Nikolai would be upset or jealous about the repeal. Would he be bitter I got to stay with Rhys and keep the crown? But he’d been nothing but supportive, and he’d admitted he enjoyed his new life more than he’d expected. I think part of him was actually relieved.

Nikolai had grown up thinking he wanted the throne because he didn’t have a choice to not want it, and now that he was freed from those expectations, he was thriving. Meanwhile, I’d taken up the mantle and grown into the role.

Ironic, the way things turned out.

“Yes, he was a bit of a toad, wasn’t he?” Nikolai grinned and glanced over my shoulder. “Ah, it seems my time is up. I’ll talk to you later. I need to save Sabrina before Grandfather forces her to name our baby Sigmund after our great-great-uncle.” He hesitated. “Are you happy, Bridget?”

I squeezed his hand again, a messy clog of emotion tangling in my throat. “I am.”

Did I feel like the weight of the world was on my shoulders sometimes? Yes. Did I get angry, frustrated, and stressed? Yes. But so did a lot of people. The important thing was, I no longer felt trapped. I’d learned to master my circumstances instead of letting them master me, and I had Rhys by my side. No matter how terrible of a day I had, I could go home to someone I loved who loved me back, and that made all the difference.

Nikolai must’ve heard the sincerity in my voice, because his face relaxed. “Good. That’s all I need to know.” He kissed my cheek before he beelined to where a five-months-pregnant Sabrina sat with our grandfather, who’d spent his post-ruling days fussing over his future great-grandchild and trying to find a suitable hobby to fill his time.

Edvard had forced Rhys to teach him how to draw for a few weeks before it became clear his talents did not lie in the artistic realm. He’d since moved on to archery, and I’d had to add a hazard pay bonus for the staff accompanying him to practice.

I turned to see what had made Nikolai leave, and my face broke into a smile when I saw Rhys approaching.

“Long time no see,” I teased. We’d only had one dance together before we were pulled away by various friends and family.

“Don’t remind me. My own wedding, and I barely see my wife,” he grumbled, but his frown eased when he drew me into his arms. “We should’ve eloped.”

“The palace would’ve had something to say about that.”

“Fuck the palace.”

I stifled a laugh. “Rhys, you can’t say that. You’re the Prince Consort now.” The King Consort title didn’t exist in Eldorra, so even though I was the queen, he was called the Prince Consort.

“Which means I can say it even more than before.” Rhys grazed my jaw with his lips, and goosebumps of pleasure dotted my arms. “Speaking of Prince Consort…what benefits come with the position?”

“Um.” I tried to think through the fog in my head as he caressed the nape of my neck. “A crown, a lovely room in the palace, medical benefits…”

“Boring. Boring. Even more boring.”

I laughed. “What do you want then?”

Rhys lifted his head, his eyes gleaming. “I want to bend—”

“Hi guys, I’m so sorry for interrupting.” Ava appeared beside us. She looked lovely in her mint green bridesmaid dress, but her face was etched with concern. “Have you seen Jules and Josh? I can’t find them anywhere.”

“She’s afraid they’ve murdered each other,” Alex added, coming up behind her.

Ava rolled her eyes. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Not by much. I saw Jules with a knife earlier.”

“I hope they haven’t. Bad press if there’s a murder at my wedding,” I joked. “But no, I haven’t seen them. Sorry.”

Still, I swept my eyes around the room just in case.

Booth, whom I’d insisted attend as a guest instead of a guard, was deep in conversation with his wife and Emma, who’d flown in a few days ago so we could catch up before the wedding. Apparently, she’d gotten more attached to Meadow’s cuddliness and Leather’s foul mouth than expected, and she’d adopted both from the shelter. I was delighted, especially when Emma promised to send me pictures and videos of them often.

Steffan was dancing with Malin. I’d called him after my press conference to apologize for not giving him a heads up, but he hadn’t been upset at all. He said it’d given him the courage to stand up to his father, and considering he was attending the most publicized event of the year with Malin, it must’ve all worked out.

Christian stood in the shadows, chatting with Andreas, but his eyes strayed to something—someone—on the dance floor. I followed his gaze and winced when I saw Stella.

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