Emilia gave him a look. “Skip the royal balcony kiss? Are you trying to start a revolution?” A pause.
“Are you nervous?” he asked, quietly.
She hesitated, then answered honestly. “A little. It’s not the kiss. It’s the knowing they’re all watching. Like it stops being ours.”
Alexander nodded slowly. Then leaned in, brushing his lips to her temple. “Then we’ll make it ours anyway.”
The balcony doors swung open. A roar rose from the crowd below, louder than anything yet. Caledonia, it seemed, loved a good love story. They stepped out into the sunlight together. The flags waved harder. The cheers turned into a chant of their names: Alexander and Emilia, Alexander and Emilia, as though the country had written itself into the fairy tale too. They waved and smiled feeling if they’d landed in a dream.
Meanwhile, just inside the palace, out of frame and very much not invited onto the balcony, the inner circle had gathered by the tall arched windows, affording an excellent view. The commentary, however, was less polished… unless you counted snark as national heritage.
Ethan popped a macaron into his mouth and leaned one shoulder against the marble. “Alright. Place your bets ladies and gentlemen. Does he go full smolder or keep it respectful for the grandmothers in the crowd?”
Harper didn’t look away from the glass, a small smile playing on her lips. “He’ll behave. He’s been trained for this since birth.”
Sebastian scoffed from beside her. “You say that like you haven’t seen him try to undo Emilia’s buttons with his eyes every single time they’re in the same room.”
Behind them, Tereza was dabbing her eyes, and Enzo had already turned it into a drinking game with Lukas: take a sip every time someone saysdestinyon live TV.
On the balcony, the couple moved closer, silhouetted in perfect lighting. Emilia tilted her face up. Alexander bent toward her like a man walking into the center of gravity. Sebastian whistled low under his breath. “Damn. That’s not just a kiss. That’s a profession of faith.”
“He’s looking at her like he’d start a constitutional crisis if she asked,” Harper muttered.
“They’re definitely going to sneak off during the reception,” Ethan said. “We’ll be mid-speech and someone will go, ‘Where’s the King?’ and I’ll have to pretend not to know.”
“They’re in love,” Harper said softly. Both men turned to look at her. She caught the glance, rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”
Sebastian smirked. “Who said anything?”
“You were thinking it,” she accused, pointing at him.
“I mean, we were all thinking it,” Ethan offered, with a shrug. “It’s like watching the end of a Netflix season and knowing the next one’s going to have… palace babies and tax reform.”
Sebastian leaned against the wall, arms folded, his smile a little softer now. “Still. Not bad, for two people who started off arguing over an exhibit placard and accidentally modernized the monarchy in the process.”
They all watched as Alexander gently pulled back from the kiss, and Emilia leaned her forehead against his.
Harper exhaled. “That was romantic.”
“Exceptionally so,” Ethan agreed. “I almost expressed real emotions publicly.” Sebastian snorted.
“Wait, what is the protocol if you start crying at a royal kiss? Do I need to go somewhere? Is there a discreet room?”
“You’re both impossible,” Harper said, bumping Sebastian’s shoulder good-naturedly as the group began to disperse, the public duties of the newlyweds momentarily concluded. He just stood there for a moment longer, watching the crowd below.
“They really pulled it off,” he said, mostly to himself.
Ethan clapped him on the shoulder as they turned to follow the others. “Shocking, really. A functioning couple in this palace? We should all be concerned.”
“And take notes,” Harper added over her shoulder, a smile in her voice.
As the afternoon mellowed, guests transitioned from the initial public fervor to the more formal setting of the palace ballroom. The lights dimmed as servers whisked away the last of the dessert plates, the soft clink of crystal and silver creating a gentle symphony of anticipation. Champagne glasses were refilled with practiced efficiency, and gradually, a hush settled over the assembled crowd. Someone tapped a spoon against their glass, a crystalline note that seemed to hang in the air, followed by a few polite coughs as hundreds of eyes turned toward the head table.
Sebastian rose first, his chair scraping softly against the marble floor. A collective intake of breath rippled through the room. Everyone knew Alexander’s half-brother by reputation, and they braced themselves accordingly.
“Good evening, esteemed guests, Your Majesties, nobility…” Sebastian’s voice carried easily across the ballroom, his tone warm but tinged with mischief. “…tabloid reporters hiding in the balcony.” Soft laughter bubbled up.
Alexander shot his brother a look that was equal parts amusement and warning.