Proud nose.
Dimpled chin.
Light brown hair.
Steady green eyes.
“You…” I breathe. “You’re…”
Crown Prince Henry.
Rightful heir to the throne.
Future King of Germania.
The man in question smiles, the undamaged half of his mouth tugging upward.
“Hello there, cousin. Nice to officially meet you.”
* * *
If I werethe kind of girl who fainted in times of great distress, I’d be on the floor right about now. Somehow, I manage to stay conscious as I stare at Henry. My guards have closed in, surrounding him as though he’s some sort of threat.
“Riggs,” I say numbly. “Fall back. He’s…” I swallow hard. “He’s the true king.”
At the wordkingthe crowd detonates into a cacophony of sound. Some people are cheering, others are crying. The news ripples from pew to pew. In seconds, it will spread beyond the walls of this cathedral, out into the world.
It’s the Crown Prince!
He’s alive!
Henry is alive!
And the rightful king!
I’ve seen pictures of my cousin in the past. He was once regarded as a very handsome man. His scars have tempered his beauty somewhat, but he still holds himself with regal bearing as he ascends the steps up onto the altar, coming to a stop directly between Alden and me. There’s a bemused smile on his face. I realize he is quite enjoying the spectacle he’s just caused.
My throat feels clogged. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say, in this scenario. Even Lady Morrell, sitting slack-jawed in the second pew, seems at a loss for proper royal protocol.
“Queen Emilia,” Henry says jovially, bowing slightly at the waist. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance after all this time. I do apologize for the drama of my entrance.”
“You’re… you’re…”
“No longer comatose?” He laughs lightly. “Yes, well, I’m certain that’s a bit of an inconvenience.” His eyes slide to my groom’s. “To some more than others.”
Alden’s hands fall away from mine, as though he’s been scalded. He reels backward, looking pale. His body collides with the ceremonial table, sending our ring pillows cascading to the floor. I watch the gold bands roll off in opposite directions, disappearing beneath a nearby pulpit.
The crowd behind us has gone silent. Henry turns to face them. “My fellow Germanians — I’m sure my sudden reappearance has caused quite a stir. All will be explained in due time, I assure you. But for now, we must postpone this happy occasion.” He glances at me. “My family has some things to sort out before any marriages can take place. And I fear we must do so without an audience.”
I signal to Riggs and Galizia. Without delay, they begin to usher everyone out — row by row, a slow parade of eager onlookers craning their necks to catch one last glimpse of the royal drama before they are forced out into the rain.
“Henry!” A hysterical female voice bursts out. I turn in time to see Ava, clad in a gorgeous silver gown, hurling herself from the front pew onto the altar.
“Oh, Henry!” she sobs, her waterworks Oscar-worthy. “You’re alive! My darling! My love!”
I snort — I can’t help it.
Henry glances over at the sound, a wry expression on his face, then turns his attention to the sobbing woman at his feet. She’s grabbed hold of one of his ankles.