Mom, Dad, Gav, Ellen, and George followed them to get seated in the first official carriage.
Audra held out my bouquet of cascading Aldaynean roses which matched my white and purple ensemble. It was bound together with jewels and silver chains and tiny silver bells, catching the light however it was held. “A gift from the Tremwells,” she said with a curtsy.
“It’s beautiful,” I said as I grabbed her into a hug.
I followed the bridal party out to the front of the castle, where soldiers already stood guard, both on foot and on horseback, protecting us from prying eyes as we were all seated in our different coaches. My heart soared when I saw Sean in full uniform, waiting to assist me into my coach. I didn’t give a damn about protocol, I reached up to hug his neck. “Sean!”
“I’ll get you to your Prince, milady,” he bowed.
“It couldn’t be anyone else,” I grinned. I was rewarded by the tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth as he helped me step up into the carriage, taking care to gather my train and veil to secure them in the coach before closing the door.
I had hoped to share a coach with the members of my family, or even my bridal party, but the queen had been adamant that this was a journey I had to take alone, introducing me to the people of Aldayne and preparing me for the ultimate separation of who I was and who I was about to become.
“You will prize these quiet moments alone,” she had predicted.
I wasn’t so sure. It seemed like a long, lonely trip.
Little did I know that we would barely pass the gates before I realized exactly what she meant. Dawn broke, revealing that lined up on either side of the road were dozens upon dozens of Aldayneans who had camped out to watch the coach processional to the church, despite the chilly temperatures in the mid-50s. They literally wore their Aldaynean pride on their sleeves with coats, blankets, hats, and scarves in purple and black, waving signs and ringing bells as they screamed and cheered to show their support. I waved to them as I was taught to, sharing a genuine smile for their instant adoration. I was touched by how many of them there were, for miles at a stretch. From under the shadow of Grandpa Charlie, past Midnight Falls, through the dark pastures of Rose Valley where all the black roses grew, through Yaarshire where Yaars grapes aspired to become sweet wine. We circled back towards Castlewick and through Cochrann, past Girbridge University where protesters were mixed between the students clamoring to show their approval.
It was like the entire country came out to take part in this historic day. Maeve had declared the day a bank holiday to ensure that anyone could participate that wanted to.
Out of curiosity, I used a slower moment as we passed through countryside just south of Unity Lake to see how Auggie was progressing. I wanted to sneak a glimpse of my prince, but I got way more than I bargained for when I opened social media. I was trending, which I had expected.
What I wasn’t expecting was #FlimFlamFam.
I knew when I saw it that it would have to do with me. I also knew I shouldn’t click on it at all, but morbid curiosity got the better of me. The hashtag opened a brand-new article on the PING website, with Christopher Tyler’s byline.
WHERE IS THE REST OF THE FAMILY? WHAT DIRTY SECRETS ARE THE MCPHEES HIDING?
I gulped back a lump in my throat as I scrolled down the article, where I saw familiar faces that I hadn’t seen in an awfully long time
It was my Grandmother and Grandfather on my Dad’s side, preachers from West Texas, who had long broken ties with our family.
That wasn’t true. They hadn’t broken ties with us. We had broken ties with them. And it had been as recently as the year before, when they had something to say about Dash dancing in Fern’s videos in his rainbow tutu.
They had a lot to say about the way my parents lived their life and raised their children, criticizing every choice they had made since Dad ran off with my nomad mother when he was just seventeen years old. They had claimed then that she had led him astray, convincing him to ditch his name and his family obligation to follow his dad’s footsteps to take over the church one day.
But that had never been Dad’s calling. He wanted nothing to do with speaking in front of a crowd or telling other people what to do or how to live. He preferred Mom’s more mellow vibe. From the moment they met, she was playing a song only he could hear. His parents never understood, and they spent more than twenty years trying to convince them.
There were awkward visits to Texas where they policed everything, including all of us kids.
That ended when they told Dashie that he had to ditch his tutu, or he’d wind up in hell. Dad lost his temper and told them off, airing every grievance he had been harboring since he was a little boy.
We hadn’t spoken to any of them since.
But boy, they were sure talking now. My heart burned with hatred that Christopher had unearthed them just to fuck with me. He couldn’t just let me be happy, and he was willing to trash every single member of my family to get one over one me.
That he got them to denigrate me for the unplanned pregnancy was the last straw. I nearly threw the phone across the coach.
Jack began kicking, likely feeling the effects of my stress. I caressed him, speaking gently to him, promising I’d never let anyone hurt him, ever, even if they were blood kin. I didn’t have to imagine what my super-religious grandparents might say about the baby I conceived out of wedlock, because they were already too willing to offer a public statement about it. “How can she be trusted with the well-being of a country if she cannot be trusted with the reputation of her own child?”
I seethed as I read their words. How could they attack a poor little innocent baby, as if anything I might have done would have made him anything less than perfect?
I was so upset I nearly forgot that I was supposed to greet countrymen and women along the processional route towards Shimmering Falls. I put my phone away and concentrated on touching up my makeup. Still, I couldn’t unhear their hateful comments. I knew if I read one sign calling my son a bastard, I might just come unhinged.
Some fairy tale this was turning out to be. This shit was definitely not in any book I had ever read, or movie I had ever seen, or song I had ever sung.
As the streets grew more populated, my mood tried to correct itself. I could see that despite the ways my enemies, both old and new, had set out to sully my wedding day, there were thousands of Aldayneans who were ready to love and accept me as their princess. They screamed and waved their signs, ringing their bells as we passed by.
Bells from church towers tolled throughout the kingdom as we approached Wandermere. Maeve had told me that ringing bells warded off evil spirits. I touched the silver bells on my bouquet with an absent smile. I could use all the help I could get.
Despite it all, I needed to remember who I was. I was still Peaches McPhee, FFS.
No. I was Lady Peaches McPhee, Aldaynean nobility by decree of the Queen. I lifted my head and waved to my adoring public, who were ready to accept me and support me as is. They gave me strength the closer I got to the Cathedral where I would pledge my love and my life not only to Auggie but to Aldayne itself.
When the golden coach took its place in front of us, carrying my future husband to the church where we would wed before God and the world, I had no doubts whatsoever that this was what I wanted to do, complications and all.
I caressed my son with one hand and waved to my people with the other. As the towering spires of the bell towers of Crystal Skye Cathedral came into view, I was every bit a gushing bride-to-be, ready to shed my old life and embrace my new one.