The Sinful King (Naughty Royals 1)

“You look stunning,” he said, his eyes gleaming with tears.

“Thank you for doing this.” I smiled.

“If it’s important to you, it’s important to me.” He kissed my hand and helped me get into the carriage.

As we rode toward the gates, I focused on taking deep breaths. Soon, we’d be exposed for all to see, and from what we’d heard thanks to Dad’s contacts in news, they were estimating more than two million people to take the streets and watch as I rode to the cathedral. I reached for my father’s hand and squeezed it.

“You’re perfect. You will be great.” He smiled. “On the other hand, they may throw things at us when they see me riding in here with you.”

“Oh, my God. I knew I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.”

“I hope you’re joking.”

“I’m not sure that I am.” I laughed. He shook his head, grinning.

When the iron gates opened and the horses began riding out, I held my breath. But then people cheered. It was an uproar of whistles and clapping. I let go of my father’s hand and started to wave. By the time we reached Notre Dame, my shoulder hurt from all the waving I’d done.

“Maybe this is why they don’t hold their arms all the way up when they wave,” I said to my father. “It’s exhausting.”

“Who doesn’t hold their arms up?”

“The princesses and queens. You know, when they’re in public, they kind of hold their elbow to their side as they wave.” I frowned. “I think.”

“I take it you’re nervous.”

“What? No. Why would you say that?”

“You’ve been talking nonstop for the last twenty-five minutes, which is fine, but waving? Really, Adeline?” He laughed. “You have no reason to be nervous. They love you.”

“What if I’m not cut out for this job?”

“You’ve been making appearances for the last year. You’re more than cut out for it. You’re the reason people stopped protesting. You’re the reason I stopped protesting.” He raised an eyebrow. “And that’s a tough thing for a lifelong complainer to give up.”

I laughed and nodded. He was right. Even if I wasn’t cut out for it, I’d make it work. For Elias. With Elias. I held my father’s hand as I got out of the carriage and waved at the people standing behind the makeshift fences they’d put up around the cathedral. Butterflies swarmed my stomach as I walked to the door, and even more so as they opened them for us. I heard Michel-Richard Delalande Sinfonies, Hugo Reyne 1 playing loudly and took one last deep breath before the set of doors opened up in front of me and the music switched to a hymn played on the harp. Everyone stood as I walked, but my gaze stayed on Elias who seemed to be millions of miles away. He was wearing a large gold crown on his head and a deep red shawl over his suit. Today, I’d walk out of here with a Queen’s crown on my own head, one the archbishop would place atop my head once Elias and I said our I do’s.

My heels tapped on the checkered marble floor as I smiled at some of the guests—Etienne and his parents, Joss and her parents, Aramis, some of my parents’ friends. Pilar, who was standing beside Benjamin Drake. I did a double-take when I saw them. When we finally reached the front, my father handed my hand over to Elias and whispered something in his ear as he patted his shoulder. Elias took my hand in his and grinned at me; it was the happiest I’d ever seen him, and the look alone was enough to wash away all of my reservations and nerves. I forgot there were millions, maybe billions watching us, and focused solely on him and this moment.

“You look beautiful,” Elias whispered in my ear just as the priest began to speak.

We weren’t allowed personal vows. Everything had to be by the book and we settled for the fact that we’d made our own vows to each other every single day, we didn’t need to say them aloud, especially not in public. This may not be a traditional marriage in many ways, but some things were better left alone. Besides, who was I to argue when I had this man to have and to hold every day? When it was time for us to kiss, we turned to each other and smiled so wide. Elias brought his hand to my face as he brought his closer and whispered, “I love you so much” just as our lips met.

After the ceremony, the media was asked to step outside during my coronation. Elias’s coronation had been the first to be televised. Our wedding had been the first to be televised. My coronation, like the Queen Mother’s before me, would remain behind closed doors, for only the clergy and guests invited to the wedding to witness. The queens before us were crowned with their respective kings, or alone, behind closed doors in Sainte-Chapelle or Abbey of Saint-Denis. Elias made it so that I would be crowned during our wedding ceremony.