ed in the wings at the International Women’s Day gala event, letting the sound of the crowd wash over him. It was a rare moment of peace at an event like this. Usually, Rafael was the one at the forefront, but this evening Felicity had been the star of the show.
Since it was International Women’s Day and not International Kings’ Day, he’d stepped back, letting the women of the royal family lead. He’d known for a while that Artur’s wife, Amy, was at the top of her field when it came to PR and event planning. Today only confirmed it.
“Waiting for the speech?” Amy appeared at his elbow, wearing an elegant dress of navy blue. She was very pregnant but it didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest. He felt a flare of regret at that—he’d never seen Felicity when she was pregnant with Hope. He’d never had the chance to feel the baby kick in her belly, and some unsettled part of him thought he might never get that chance.
“Yes,” Rafael said. “I’ve heard it’s a very good speech. I told her I’d read it over if she wanted me to, but Felicity thought the PR department had it well in hand.”
Amy cocked her head to the side. “You’re sure you don’t want to read it before she goes on? I have a copy right here.” She made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a cough. “I’d remind you that you’re the king and you have final approval over everything, but you already know that.”
He laughed. “I do know that. I’m confident the speech is a good one.” Rafael had a sense that he shouldn’t interfere very much in the event, and especially not in Felicity’s speech. He might be king, but that didn’t mean his interference would be welcomed by his soon-to-be queen. Especially since, on a personal level, something was off between the two of them.
She’d been distant ever since the brunch outing, and when they’d arrived back at the palace Felicity had thrown herself right back into the International Women’s Day activities. He’d hardly seen her the past three days, except for in clips in the news media, where she was praised to the skies for all she was doing. In a way, he was more impressed than anything. She’d bloomed right in front of his eyes.
There was a hush from the ballroom, and footsteps off to his left.
Amy stepped forward first. “Felicity,” she said, leaning in to brush an air kiss close to Felicity’s cheek. “You look gorgeous.”
“Oh, thank you.” Even in the dim light offstage, he could tell that Felicity was blushing. “Most of the credit goes to the makeup artist—Zia’s a genius.”
“You look lovely,” said Rafael. It was the truth—in a pale blue gown with a thin circlet of diamonds in her hair, she looked every inch the queen.
“Thank you,” said Felicity softly, smiling at him.
His gut went cold.
The smile hadn’t quite reached her eyes, and for an instant he’d felt like he was looking at his mother.
For most of his life, Rafael had thought of his mother as a true queen. She’d been fair and kind…in public. But this was the only kind of smile he’d ever seen on her face. It was a smile that lacked any actual joy.
He opened his mouth to ask Felicity what was wrong, but she’d already turned away, to Amy. “Are we good to go?”
“Yes,” said Amy. “I’ll step out and introduce you, and then you can give your remarks.” She reached out and rubbed Felicity’s shoulder. “You’ve done a really great job this week, I should say.”
“We’ve done a great job,” echoed Felicity, and then it was time for Amy to go out onstage.
Rafael didn’t dare disturb her as she waited to make her speech, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her, either. The moment before she stepped into the light, her face transformed into a brighter smile that tugged at his heart.
He still couldn’t tell if it was real.
The words of Felicity’s speech blurred into each other as he watched her there, glowing in the spotlight, his heart pounding and his head swirling with questions. She had made herself into the perfect queen, but at what cost? What cost?
The only thing that broke him out of his thoughts was the applause from the crowd.
Felicity stood behind the podium, smiling radiantly, and gave a little wave. She said something that didn’t quite make it to the microphone. She was good. Rafael’s chest filled with pride as he walked out to make his own remarks—a sentence or two, praising Felicity and the rest of the team. She stood tall next to him as he said the words, and then, still so proud, he leaned down to kiss Felicity’s cheek.
And Felicity stepped back, so smoothly it was astounding, and put her hands on his shoulders, smiling up at him.
Rafael had been king long enough to know that freezing in place wasn’t an option, but he very nearly did it anyway.
Felicity had always been the one to take his hand. She had always been the one to ignore the propriety rules. She’d always been the one to forget little pieces of protocol at the most inopportune moments.
And now she was the one stopping him from behaving inappropriately.
His heart in his throat, he stood up tall and waved at the crowd.
“That was a close one,” said Felicity, still wearing that same smile.
He knew he should be happy. He knew he should take pride in the fact that she was learning the ins and outs of the royal court.