I chuckled. “For about twenty-four more hours anyway. Then I’ll be a Quinn.”
We absorbed that heady thought for a moment before we both started to squeal in excitement. She grabbed me in a powerful hug. “You’re gonna be a princess, Pea! And then you’re going to be Queen.” She pulled away. “Well, you always were. But this makes it official. Even the haters can’t deny it now.”
I laughed. “I’m sure they’ll still try. They get even louder the more untouchable you become. In case you hadn’t noticed.”
Did fairy tales normally come with protesters? Mine sure did. Though many Aldayneans had come to accept me as their new princess, a very vocal number had not. They missed no opportunity to tell me to take my “bastard child” back to America where I belonged.
Even being protected by the thick stone walls of all these castles hadn’t muffled the sound.
She shrugged. “It’s all white noise to the important things you’re going to be able to do now.”
That was even more heady than the thought of getting married. The royal duties, particularly for the House of Quinn, centered on service. Instead of reading about problems in the headlines and being powerless to do more than send thoughts or prayers, Auggie and I would have the power to help people. And I already knew, from his time as the Duke of Mayhem and the quiet service he had always conducted even before he had agreed to become king, that we would do amazing things.
He was a fine man. He would be a noble, generous, empathetic ruler.
And for one incredibly lucky woman, he would be a husband and partner.
I glanced again at the dress I would be wearing in a few short hours. Despite how Cillian had tried to rain on my parade, my heart soared with joy. I squeezed my sister’s hand. “Come on,” I said, pulling her towards the party that waited for me.
As I predicted, Dad had wrestled control of the cooking staff to prepare a barbecue feast with some of our family favorites that were born in the American southwest. He oversaw everything with his quiet authority, donning an apron and cooking right alongside the puzzled staff who didn’t quite know what to make of all the Americans who had invaded the serene, solemn surroundings of a stately castle built in the 1100s.
They likewise didn’t know what to make of my mother, Sunny McPhee, and her new sidekick Jorge Navarro, who orchestrated the festivities for the evening in the ancient grand ballroom under a domed rotunda. Though it looked like an elegant backdrop for a medieval ball, disco music blared from the speakers as my guests for the evening milled about, the bridal signature drink in hand: an auberry and peaches champagne cocktail made with the best Yaars bubbly in the country.
I couldn’t wait to taste it… in a few more weeks, after my son was born.
Dash looked ever so fetching in his little uniform on loan from the queen, complete with a saber to his side and a medal on his chest. He bowed to me as he stopped me at the entrance. “Milady,” he greeted.
I couldn’t help but giggle. “Sire,” I responded with a curtsy of my own. “Didn’t you want to save your uniform for the wedding?”
“I have another one for tomorrow,” he said. “It’s way fancier.”
I nodded. “Of course,” I grinned. He was an official page, just like Oliver Tremwell. Dallas would serve as one of the bridesmaids, along with several other young girls we selected with the Queen.
My maid of honor was my sister, Fernie, of course. But I had also insisted that Audra join our party as well. She was family as far as I was concerned, and I wanted my wedding to reflect that. My maids of honor would follow me down the aisle, guiding the children who would escort me to my prince.
We had spent the last couple of weeks rehearsing the pomp and circumstance that would magically turn me from an ordinary commoner to an Aldaynean princess, so everyone knew their parts. There was only one thing left to do.
Party.
Dash turned to our private court. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced formally, in a loud voice that required no microphone. “For the last time ever, Peaches McPhee!”
The introduction was bittersweet. I didn’t want to leave that part of myself behind, no matter how glad I was to marry the man that I loved. It was a terrifying prospect to think I was becoming someone else entirely: not just Peaches Quinn… but Her Royal Highness Peaches McPhee Quinn Agassi, Duchess of Iver, as I would be officially styled until Auggie’s coronation as king.
Though Old Mother resisted it at first, I decided I wanted to keep Agassi in my name. It was my husband’s name, after all. It was a part of him. It was a part of his history. I wanted not only to keep it but pass it along to our children, starting first with Jack.
My other brother, Archer, was second to greet me. “Hey, sis,” he grinned as he pulled me in for a tight hug. “You look amazing.”
I laughed. “Like a princess?”
“Like a queen,” he corrected. He pulled back to look at me.
“What?” I asked finally, only because it took him so long to form a sentence. It was very un-Archer-like.
“I don’t want to give up my job looking after you,” he started, his voice hitching.
“Oh, Archer,” I pulled him into a hug. “You never have to give up that job. I’ll always be your little sister.”
My uncharacteristically emotional brother squeezed me tight. “Good,” he said. “Because being your brother is one of my favorite things.”
His declaration made me emotional as well. “Arch,” was all I could say as I held him tight.
He had had many reservations with my engagement, my upcoming marriage, and my unexpected pregnancy, but now wasn’t the time to get into it. We had talked, and argued, long into the night in the past few weeks, but Archer knew that I had made up my mind and there was no changing it. He wanted to protect me as best he could, but I would soon belong to Aldayne. He had to trust that they would take care of me from now on.
They had protected me from Christopher.
The jury was out on how they could protect me from Cillian. Given he was part of the royal family, as were the whole Byrne clan, I was a little nervous on just how close my new enemies would be allowed to get.
They were already on the guest list for the wedding, sitting right up front in the sanctuary, along with the other lines of royal family that had branched out across Europe.
I vaulted between being glad they could see us in our joy and freaked out they would hop up and tear the whole thing asunder the minute Bishop O’Sullivan asked if there was anyone present who could show just cause that we could not be married.
I had had actual nightmares about it over the past few weeks, so much so I tried to campaign that the line be omitted entirely. Given Queen Maeve didn’t know the true paternity, I really didn’t have a valid reason to taking it out other than a general distrust of the Byrnes altogether, which, apparently, was not enough.
That said, I had to wonder if Cillian’s little surprise gift was a reassurance that he was willing to wait until Halloween to pull any nasty rabbits out of his hat, or just something to pacify me so that such a stunt would pack a greater punch.
Only time would tell.
I tried to set aside my worries and instead focus on the festivities before me. All McPhees were present, joined by our new friends and future-in-laws, the Tremwells, as well as my Glam Crew, Jorge and Darcy, and their litany of elves that were tasked with turning this ordinary girl into a princess.