The Wedding

The palace gates loomed before us like the entrance to another world. Gold-leafed spires reached toward the sky, their surfaces catching the morning sun and throwing light in every direction. I'd seen the palace from a distance during my stay in the forest, but I'd never been this close. Never imagined I'd be riding through these gates as anything more than property.

"Breathe," Idris said softly, his voice barely audible over the thunder of hooves on cobblestones. "You look like you're about to faint."

I realized I'd been holding my breath. "I might."

The courtyard was bigger than the entire village I'd been born in. Servants lined the pathway, their heads bowed in respect. For us. For me. I wanted to tell them to stop, that I was nobody, that I'd been eating scraps and sleeping on the ground for most of my life.

"Your Highness," a woman in elaborate robes approached as we dismounted. "I am Lady Mira, and I've been assigned as your personal attendant. If you'll follow me, I'll show you to your chambers."

I looked at Idris, panic flashing in my eyes. He was already being led away by a group of officials, their voices urgent as they spoke of meetings and preparations.

"Go," he said, catching my gaze. "I'll see you soon."

Lady Mira's smile was kind but professional. "This way, Your Highness."

Your Highness. The words made my skin crawl. I wasn't ready for this. Would never be ready for this.

My chambers were larger than the entire cottage I'd grown up in. Silk hangings in deep jewel tones covered the walls, and a bed that could have slept six people dominated the center of the room. Windows overlooked gardens that stretched to the horizon, perfectly manicured and impossibly green.

"The bath is being prepared," Lady Mira said, her voice matter-of-fact. "His Majesty has requested an audience with you this afternoon, and Prince Idris thought you might want to... refresh yourself first."

I nodded mutely, still staring at the room. At the luxury. At the life I was apparently supposed to live now.

"Your Highness?" Lady Mira's voice was gentle. "Are you quite alright?"

"I..." I turned to face her. "I don't know how to do this."

"Do what?"

"Any of this. Be a princess. Live in a palace. I don't know how to be what they expect me to be."

Lady Mira's expression softened. "May I speak freely?"

I nodded.

"Prince Idris specifically requested that I be assigned to you. He said you would need someone patient, someone who understood that this world might be... overwhelming at first."

"He said that?"

"He did. And he asked me to tell you that you don't have to be perfect. You just have to be yourself."

I felt tears prick my eyes. Even here, even in this impossible situation, he was thinking of me. Taking care of me.

"Now," Lady Mira said briskly, "let's get you ready for your audience with the king."

I'd never had a bath prepared for me. Not once in my entire life. In the palace, we'd been allowed to wash in cold water when we could steal a moment. In the forest, I'd used streams and rivers. But this... this was something else entirely.

The bathing chamber was a room unto itself, with a tub carved from a single piece of marble. Steam rose from the water, and the air smelled of jasmine and rose petals. Three servant girls waited beside the tub, their faces respectful but curious.

"I can... I can do this myself," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course, Your Highness," Lady Mira replied smoothly. "But it's traditional for the princess to be attended during her bath. Especially before such important occasions."

I stood frozen, unable to move. The girls were looking at me expectantly, and I realized they were waiting for me to undress. In front of them. Like it was normal.

"I..." I started, then stopped. How could I explain that I'd never been cared for? That the idea of someone tending to me, serving me, made me feel sick with guilt?

"Perhaps," Lady Mira said gently, "the girls could wait outside while you enter the water? They could assist with your hair once you're settled?"

I nodded gratefully, and she shooed them out with a wave of her hand. When the door closed, I was alone with the impossible luxury of it all.

The water was perfect—hot but not scalding, scented with oils that made my skin tingle. I sank into it slowly, afraid to believe it was real. When was the last time I'd been truly warm? When was the last time I'd felt clean?

I closed my eyes and let myself sink deeper, until the water touched my chin. For the first time in years, I felt... safe. Protected. Like nothing could touch me here.

"Your Highness?" Lady Mira's voice was soft. "May the girls return to help with your hair?"

I opened my eyes, realizing I'd been in the water for much longer than I'd intended. "Yes, of course."

The girls worked with practiced efficiency, their fingers gentle as they worked soap through my hair. One of them gasped when she saw the scar on my wrist, but said nothing. 

When they were finished, my hair fell in shining waves down my back. My skin glowed from the oils and the heat. I looked at myself in the mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back.

"You're beautiful," Lady Mira said simply. "Prince Idris is a lucky man."

The throne room was more magnificent than anything I'd imagined. Vaulted ceilings disappeared into shadows, and columns of marble supported galleries where courtiers gathered to observe the proceedings. The throne itself was a work of art—carved from black wood and inlaid with gold, with cushions of deep purple silk.

King Rashid sat with the bearing of a man who'd ruled for decades. He was handsome still, though lines around his eyes spoke of the weight of crown and responsibility. When he looked at me, I saw Idris in his features—the same intelligent eyes, the same strong jaw.

"Approach," he said, his voice carrying easily through the vast space.

I walked forward, my legs shaking so badly I was afraid I might fall. When I reached the base of the throne, I dropped into the deepest curtsy I could manage.

"Your Majesty."

"Rise."

I stood, keeping my eyes downcast. I could feel the weight of his gaze, clinical and dismissive.

"So you're the one my son has chosen," he said finally, his tone utterly neutral. "Idris speaks highly of you."

"You're too kind, Your Majesty."

"Look at me."

I raised my eyes to meet his. His expression was neutral, businesslike.

"The wedding will take place in three days," he said matter-of-factly. "The entire court will attend, along with representatives from neighboring kingdoms. It will be a significant event."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"You will conduct yourself appropriately. Lady Mira will see to your preparation."

"I understand, Your Majesty."

"Good." He paused, studying me for a moment longer. "Idris is happy. That serves the kingdom's interests."

It was neither a blessing nor a threat—simply a statement of fact. I was acceptable because I made his son happy, and a happy prince was a useful prince.

"You may go."

I curtsied again and backed away from the throne. As I walked toward the doors, I understood my position clearly. I wasn't his daughter-in-law in any meaningful sense—I was simply his son's choice, and he would accept that choice as long as it didn't interfere with his plans.

I walked from that throne room knowing that King Rashid would tolerate me, nothing more. But for Idris's sake, that would have to be enough.

The next three days passed in a whirlwind of activity. Lady Mira had assembled a team of seamstresses, jewelers, and protocol instructors who worked around the clock to prepare me for the wedding.

"No, no," Madame Alya, the protocol instructor, clucked disapprovingly. "You must glide, not walk. A princess never hurries. She moves with grace and purpose."

I tried again, forcing myself to slow down, to move with the fluid grace she demanded. After hours of practice, my feet were screaming, but I was beginning to understand the rhythm of royal movement.

"Better," she said. "Now, when you meet a duke, you nod. When you meet a duchess, you smile and extend your hand. When you meet foreign royalty..."

The rules were endless and contradictory. I felt like I was learning a new language—one spoken in gestures and glances and the precise angle of a curtsy.

"I'll never remember all of this," I said, collapsing into a chair during a brief break.

"You will," Lady Mira said firmly. "And even if you don't, everyone will forgive small mistakes. You're a love match, after all. That earns you considerable goodwill."

"A love match?"

"The entire court is talking about it. How Prince Idris has been transformed since he met you. How he can't stop smiling when your name is mentioned. How he insisted on personally overseeing every detail of the wedding preparations."

I felt warmth flood through me. "He did?"

"He did. The flowers, the songs, the menu—he's been involved in everything. He said he wanted it to be perfect for you."

That evening, Idris came to my chambers for the first time since our arrival. I was sitting by the window, watching the sun set over the gardens, when Lady Mira announced his presence.

"Leave us," he said quietly, and she withdrew with a respectful bow.

We stood looking at each other for a long moment. In his formal court attire, he looked every inch the prince—remote, powerful, untouchable. But when he smiled, I saw Noah again.

"How are you managing?" he asked.

"I'm terrified," I admitted. "Everyone keeps telling me what to do, how to act, what to say. I don't know if I can do this."

"You can." He moved closer, and I caught the scent of his cologne—something expensive and masculine that made my pulse quicken. "You're stronger than you think."

"What if I make a mistake? What if I embarrass you?"

"You won't." He was close enough now that I could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes.

"Noah..." I started, then caught myself. "Idris. I'm sorry. I still think of you as Noah sometimes."

"I know. And I'm glad."

"Are you?"

"Noah was the man who fell in love with you. Idris is the man who gets to marry you. I need both of them."

I woke before dawn, too nervous to sleep. Lady Mira found me standing at the window, watching the sunrise paint the sky in shades of gold and pink.

"The most beautiful wedding day in memory," she said cheerfully. "The weather is perfect, the preparations are complete, and Prince Idris has been pacing the halls since midnight."

"He's nervous too?"

"Terrified, according to his valet. But happy. The happiest anyone's ever seen him."

The morning passed in a blur of activity. The bath, the hair styling, the careful application of cosmetics I'd never worn before. When they brought the wedding dress, I gasped.

It was a masterpiece of ivory silk and pearls, with intricate embroidery that told the story of ancient queens. The fabric seemed to float around me, and the weight of the jeweled belt at my waist reminded me with every breath that I was no longer the marked woman who'd fled through the forest.

"The crown jewels," Lady Mira said reverently, lifting a tiara that had graced the heads of princesses for three centuries. When she placed it on my head, I felt the weight of history settling on my shoulders.

"I don't look like me," I whispered, staring at my reflection.

"You look like a princess," she replied. "You look like exactly who you're meant to be."

The throne room had been transformed into something from a dream. Silk banners in deep crimson and gold cascaded from the vaulted ceiling, while hundreds of white roses filled every corner with their intoxicating fragrance. The marble floors gleamed like mirrors, reflecting the light from a thousand candles.

"Your Highness," Lady Mira appeared at my elbow. "Prince Idris has just finished speaking with His Majesty. They're ready for you."

My heart hammered against my ribs. This was it. In a few minutes, I would walk down that aisle and become a princess. I would marry the man I loved, the man who'd saved me, the man who'd given me a future I'd never dared to dream of.

"Are you ready?" Lady Mira asked gently.

I thought of the girl who'd run through the desert, desperate and afraid. I thought of the woman who'd learned to trust again, who'd found love in the most unlikely place. I thought of the princess I was about to become.

"Yes," I said, and meant it. "I'm ready."

The massive doors opened, and the entire court rose as one. I began my walk down the aisle, my eyes fixed on Idris standing at the altar. He was magnificent in his ceremonial robes—deep blue silk embroidered with silver thread, a cape that spoke of centuries of royal tradition, and a circlet that caught the light like captured stars.

But it was his smile that made my breath catch. Warm, genuine, filled with love so obvious that the entire court could see it. When our eyes met, he mouthed "beautiful," and I felt my nervousness melt away.

This was right. This was exactly where I was meant to be.

The ceremony itself was a blur of ancient words and sacred rituals. When Idris took my hands in his, his touch was warm and steady, his voice clear and strong as he spoke the vows that would bind us together. When he lifted the veil from my face, his eyes held mine with such intensity that I felt the rest of the world fade away.

I was married. I was a princess. I was loved.

For the first time in my life, I was truly, completely happy.