Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)(83)
Somehow, somewhere along the way, I’d grown into my new role. It would take a while before I was fully comfortable with it, but I was getting there.
“Yes. Good ones, I hope.” Sabrina squeezed my hand. “I love Nikolai, and I’d be lying if I said I’m not happy he abdicated. But I also know what a huge burden it placed on you, and for that, I’m sorry.”
“No apologies needed. You did nothing wrong except fall in love.”
I knew that. I’d always known that. But it wasn’t until I said it at that moment that any lingering resentment I had toward Nikolai and Sabrina faded away.
It wasn’t their fault. There were no wrong choices. If Nikolai had chosen the throne over Sabrina, it would’ve been devastating for him, but it would’ve been understandable. If he’d chosen Sabrina, as he had, that was understandable too. Love or country. An impossible choice when the future of a nation rests on your shoulders.
The only thing at fault was the system that forced him to choose.
“My brother adores you,” I added. Nikolai and I weren’t super close, but I knew him well enough to spot the difference. He changed into a different person when he was around Sabrina, a happier one, and I would never begrudge him that.
Sabrina’s face lit up, erasing some of the earlier stress. “It still feels like a dream sometimes,” she admitted. “To meet someone who sees me for who I am, faults and all, and loves me regardless.” She squeezed my hand again, her eyes wise beyond her twenty-five years. “I hope you find that kind of love one day, too. Whether it’s with Steffan or someone else.”
Trust me, princess. I would rather end my own life than ask you to do anything that might hurt you.
I forced a smile. “One day.”
But later that night, as I stared at the ceiling and thought about Rhys, Steffan, and my less-than-certain efforts to repeal the Royal Marriages Law, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was only room for one happy ending in this kingdom…and if it wasn’t already too late for mine.
35
Rhys
As expected, Prince Nikolai and Sabrina’s wedding was a madhouse. Half the city’s roads were closed, helicopters buzzed overhead capturing aerial footage of the procession, and thousands of people crowded the streets, eager for a glimpse of the fairytale unfolding in real life. Press flew in from all over the world, breathlessly covering every detail from the length of Sabrina’s wedding dress train to the star-studded guest list. The only reporters allowed inside the actual ceremony were those from Eldorra’s national newspaper and broadcaster, who’d received exclusive first coverage rights, but that didn’t stop the others from fighting for the best view outside the church.
Bridget spent the day running around doing whatever bridesmaids did. While they got ready in the bridal suite, I kept watch in the hall with Sabrina’s bodyguard Joseph, who was also an American contractor since Nikolai had given up his rights to the Royal Guard when he abdicated.
While Joseph rambled on about the exploits of his previous client—unprofessional as hell, but I wasn’t the man’s boss—I monitored the surroundings. There was all sorts of potential for a big day like today to go wrong.
Luckily, all seemed quiet, and before long, the door opened and Sabrina stepped out, beaming in her fancy white gown and veil. The bridesmaids filed out after her, with Bridget rounding up the rear.
She wore the same pale green dress as the other bridesmaids, but she glowed in a way no one else could. My eyes lingered on the shadow of her cleavage and the way the dress hugged her hips before I dragged them up to her face, where my breath got stuck in my throat.
Half the time, I couldn’t believe she was real.
Bridget flashed me a secretive smile as she passed by, her gaze sweeping over my suit and tie with appreciation. “You clean up nice, Mr. Larsen,” she murmured.
“So do you.” I fell into step behind her and lowered my voice until it was barely audible. “Can’t wait to tear that dress off you later, princess.”
She didn’t respond, but I saw enough of her profile to spot the rosy glow on her cheeks.
I grinned, but my good mood didn’t last long, because when we entered the wedding hall, the first person I saw was Steffan fucking Holstein sitting in one of the front pews. Shiny shoes, hair coiffed, and eyes fixed on Bridget.
I was convinced he was fucking the woman we saw him with at the hotel, but if he didn’t stop looking at Bridget like that, I was going to rip his tongue out and choke him to death with it.
I forced myself to focus on the ceremony and not the violent thoughts swarming through my head. It hadn’t been included in Elin’s instructions, but I assumed murdering a high-ranking guest in the middle of a royal wedding was frowned upon.
Bridget took her place at the altar while I remained in the side shadows, drinking her in. She stood on the side facing me, and as Nikolai and Sabrina recited their vows, she caught my eye and gave me another one of her little smiles, the kind so subtle one would miss it unless they were attuned to her every micro expression.
My shoulders relaxed, and my mouth tipped up in its own ghost of a smile.
A moment just for us, stolen beneath the noses of hundreds of people in Athenberg’s grandest church.
After the ceremony ended, everyone drove to the palace’s ballroom for the grand first reception. The second, more intimate evening reception took place at Tolose House, Nikolai and Sabrina’s new residence, which was located only a ten-minute walk from the palace. Only two hundred of the family’s closest friends and relatives received invites, no press allowed.