Royal Service (Royals of Danovar 1)

He dropped to one knee, fumbling for something in his pocket. Ella covered her mouth with one hand—everything was happening so quickly—but instead of the royal engagement ring she’d left behind, he pulled out…

A silver glitter heel.

“Marry me here in secret,” he said, staring earnestly up at her. “I want you to wear these down the aisle, no matter where that aisle is. If you want, we can even wait until after the deadline passes. Anything to prove that I mean what I say. Anything to be with you.”

Tears were rising in her eyes again, but for a new and much better, more impossible reason now. “What about your duties?” she asked around the hand that was still covering her mouth.

“Fuck duties,” he said, so earnestly that it startled a laugh out of her. The stable hands who were readying the bleachers for the upcoming show paused to give them a dirty look, but she didn’t even glance up. This man. Oh, this man—this king, who was offering to forego everything he’d ever considered his life’s purpose to get her back. If she would have him.

“I’ll let Eric inherit if that’s what it takes,” Phillip said, then had to pause and swallow hard. He didn’t take it back though, just let the offer sit there even though she knew how much it must be costing him to offer this.

She dropped her hand, dropped the reins. The horses she’d been holding, less well-trained than those at the royal stables, wandered off to investigate some hay in the corner. “That’s not what I want,” she said.

He looked up at her, worry and hope warring on that incredible face.

How to say what she meant? She waved a hand at the arena, at the horses in the corner. “Before I met you, this was all I ever wanted,” she told him. “I thought it would mean freedom. I thought that was what I wanted: never having to serve anyone again. But I was wrong. Everyone I ever talked to about my life assumed that serving made me somehow lesser, so I’d started to believe that too.” She knelt down in front of him, and, unable to restrain herself any longer, took his face in her hands. “You taught me something too, Phillip. You taught me that serving others can be one of the most noble and fulfilling pursuits anyone could be lucky enough to pursue. And in comparison to being your Queen, this old dream of mine looks shabbier with every passing minute.”

That glorious, adorable smile started to tug at the corners of his mouth, but she wasn’t quite done.

“I want to spend my life at your side. And trust me, there will likely be plenty of times where I ask you to skip traditions and compromise with some of our obligations, but this isn’t one of them. Stay king, and let me be your queen.”

He leaned forward, took a stray strand of her hair between his fingers, tucked it behind her ear. “I would love nothing more,” he said, staring at her lips like he would also love nothing more than to kiss her.

In the corner of the ring, the stable hands applauded and wolf-whistled, and she smiled. “Vegas isn’t too far of a drive from here. Let’s go find a chapel right now. I don’t want to wait another day to be your wife,” she said, staring at his lips too. God, she wanted this man so bad, right now. She slanted him a suggestive smile. “Although… maybe the wedding can wait a few more hours.”

He scooped her up, and she laughed out loud. “A few more hours it is,” he said. “I most definitely have some ideas for ways we can pass the time.”

She grinned with delight, wrapped her arms around his neck, and finally, finally kissed him. He ducked his head to meet her, and she sighed with happiness. This kiss—it felt like life. It felt like a new dream.

It felt like Phillip and her, forever.

Epilogue

Phillip tried to peer around the edges of the blindfold, but Ella had tied it expertly and he couldn’t see anything beyond vague light filtering around the corners. He tried to guess where she was taking him by hearing alone. Birds chirping, a soft breeze rustling through leaves—they were outside, but he had no idea where. She’d led him in merry circles through what had felt like the entirety of the Summer House and he’d gotten completely turned around.

“There’s a step down ahead, careful,” Ella’s teasing voice called out from in front of him. Her fingers tightened around his hand as she guided him. Today was their first anniversary, and there was no place he’d rather spend it than here, with her. They were on a weekend holiday, which they tried to take at least once or twice a month, no matter how pressing their obligations as heads of state.

She’d become a glorious queen, even better than he’d imagined. She was kind, generous, and sharp as a whip. She couldn’t be intimidated, but neither was she closed-hearted. She made him stronger and he loved her more than he’d realized one person could ever love another.

He was the luckiest man on the face of the Earth, and every day, he thanked the stars above that he’d realized it in time to go after her that day at the stables.

“Ta-da!” Ella whipped his blindfold off, grinning maniacally. He blinked into the sunlight. After his eyes adjusted, he spotted what she was so excited about: a vintage Triumph motorcycle, slightly rusty and missing several parts, with a bright red bow around its seat. “I figured we could spend some time fixing it up together when we come out here,” Ella said, proudly patting the rear wheel. “And look!” With a flourish, she brought something out from behind her back: a new helmet, painted a glittering, metallic silver. “I’m going to get myself one to match later, when I can ride again,” she said with a mischievous grin.

He laughed, taking the helmet and dropping a kiss on her cheek. “I love it.” He moved to the bike and ran a hand over it, whistling. He’d long since been a fan of these and had been meaning to get one to fix up, but had never gotten around to it. “This is perfect,” he told Ella, kneeling down to check out the engine, then blinked as he registered her words. “Wait—when you can ride again? Why can’t you ride now?”

She grinned like the cat who ate the cream and rubbed her belly. “Because I have another surprise for you,” she said. “Though you won’t get to see this one for another, oh, nine-ish months.”

He jumped to his feet, hurried to her side, stared down at her stomach. “No. Really?” he asked, barely able to get the word out past the sudden lump in his throat. “You’re pregnant?”

“Yup,” Ella said gleefully. “The throwing up in the morning part isn’t much fun, but just imagine it: by this time next year, we’ll be parents. A little princess or prince snuggled up in your arms, that wonderful new-baby smell, singing traditional Danovian lullabies at one a.m. feedings.”

He swallowed as he reached out, traced his fingers across her belly. A princess or prince. A baby. Their baby.

Concerned at his silence, Ella reached out, put a hand on his cheek. “Are you happy?” she asked, turning that beautiful, earnest face up to him.

He stepped in to her, one hand still on her stomach where his son or daughter slept and the other cupping her cheek. He laughed out loud at the sheer impossible joy of it. “I have never been so happy in my entire life,” he told her, and meant every word.

Because his life before her—he couldn’t even imagine it, couldn’t remember how he’d trudged through the days without this woman at his side. And now that they were about to add another member to their little family…he hadn’t realized life could be this good.