Paris and the Prince (Royal Weddings 1)

* * *

“You're sure you won't wear white? You're absolutely sure?”

Paris scrunched up her nose at a lovely, simple white evening gown, but a gown that would not have suited her body type at all.

“I really do look terrible in white, I promise.”

Cat laughed and sent the dress away on the arms of a flustered assistant.

“Oh, my love. That's just silly. I'm sure you'd look beautiful in anything. But generally, attendees at birthday parties for royals in Dalvana wear white or black. Could we consider black?”

Paris had never been a fan of black. While she wasn't averse to mixing it into her everyday wardrobe, she never felt like herself in it. Cat, like her son, had excellent instincts, and saw the hesitation on Paris' face.

“Hmm... You know what, my dear? Why in the world should you blend in with everyone else? You are far too lovely for that! And furthermore, I am tired of black and white myself! Estella... darling! Fetch me that lovely red Dior number that Armand told me you were getting in, in my size, would you? And for Paris... I think I have just the dress in mind.”

Cat disappeared into a back room with Estella, the assistant, and left Paris to explore the racks of shockingly expensive dresses, and the beautiful shoes set around on actual silver pedestals. Trying on clothing was never her favorite pastime, and she was just about to plop down in a huge velvet armchair when she spotted a pair of gorgeous heels, twinkling from a locked glass case in the corner. The simple white heels were set in the loveliest swirling design from heel to toe, sparkling with what almost looked like diamonds. Paris had just touched her hand to the glass when Estella walked up behind her.

“Beautiful, aren't they?”

Paris jumped a foot off the ground.

“I... I wasn't going to do... anything. I promise.”

Estella giggled.

“Of course not, Miss Paris. I would never presume such a thing. Many times a day, I find myself stopping to marvel at them. They truly are one-of-a-kind. The last three Queens of Dalvana have worn them.”

“Are those diamonds? Real diamonds?”

Estella blushed, as if the implication of anything less was offensive.

“Of course, Miss! Over twenty karats. The last time the appraiser came in, he valued them at over four million American dollars.”

Paris practically fell back away from the case, suddenly afraid to so much as breathe in the direction of the shoes.

“That's... That's more than ten times what it will cost me to go to medical school!”

Estella bowed and smiled softly at Paris.

“They are shoes fit for a queen, Miss.” She whispered conspiratorially, “I think they'd look most lovely on you.”

Paris was just about to argue when Cat walked out from the back carrying one of the loveliest dresses Paris had ever seen in her life. It was long, made from a combination of royal blue chiffon, teal silk, and teal lace. The elegant cap sleeves, bodice, and back were made from the lace, with little pearls as buttons leading up a high neck in the back but a low cut front. The chiffon crossed delicately over the chest from the sleeves, and then led down to the flowing skirt, looking almost like the ocean lapping gently at a sandy beach. The whole dress was finished off with a thin teal belt, encrusted in the front with a small flower made of tiny blue gemstones. Paris couldn't even form words as she stared at the exquisite dress.

“Now, Estella here will probably have to take this in a little around the waist, and let it out a little at the chest and the hips, but we can do that today, right?”

Estella nodded enthusiastically and started hurrying Paris into one of the canopied dressing rooms.

“Estella will be right in to help you. But start slipping into it, Paris!”

Once Paris was safely ensconced in the dressing room, Catriona grabbed Estella's arm and held her back.

“Estella, dear... Fetch the keys to the case with the diamond shoes please.” She gave the servant a small wink. “They are indeed shoes that are fit for a Queen.”

* * *

As Dennis pulled the car up in front of the palace, Paris was totally caught off guard by the amount of activity currently taking place. There were florists rushing around with huge bouquets of white flowers, chefs and waiters carrying trays full of food from vans into the house, and a bevy of men, hanging twinkling lights all over the front walk. As she got out of the car, she couldn't help but surprise herself, as she was overcome with a feeling of belonging, even amongst all of the grandeur.

Catching Paris off guard, Cat rushed around the side of the car and took her arm, rushing her into the house.

“Okay, Paris. Joy, our press secretary here, is going to take you to your room to help you get ready. She will have your dress, and she is very skilled at doing lovely hair and makeup. At a quarter to eight, I'll have Alex come collect you from your room. If you need more time, just let Joy know! Otherwise, I will see you at the party. Okay, my sweet?”

Once again, Paris felt overwhelmed by the kindness the Lennox family was showing her, and she was struck by the immense affection she felt for Cat. In a rush of emotion, she leaned over and kissed Catriona on the cheek.

“Thank you. For everything. For being so kind. For accepting me. For being... amazing. No matter what happens in the future—I will never forget you.”

Cat's eyes filled with tears and she squeezed one of Paris' hands in her own. Not accustomed to showing emotion like this in front of her staff, she rushed off before Joy could see the tears roll down her cheeks. Paris felt tears building herself, but she didn't have time to succumb to them. Joy grabbed Paris' hand and started pulling her toward the guest wing.

“We don't have a lot of time to get ready! I've already had the dress and shoes taken to the room. The makeup is all set up so I can start right away, and I've set some curlers to heat. I thought we could straighten your hair, then put in some soft, big curls. Now, I don't know if the Queen spoke to you about the shoes, but the one condition the keeper of the Crown Jewels had to lending them was that one of our security guards be present. So if you see a man in a suit watching you, don't worry. He's just watching the shoes.”

They were already in Paris' room, Joy having moved at a breakneck pace through the palace, when Paris threw up her hands to stop her from continuing.

“Hold it! Shoes? What shoes? A security guard? What are you talking about?”

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Joy opened it to a hulking man in a suit with a deeply stern face. He handed Joy a velvet box, which she accepted gingerly, before nodding with appreciation and shutting the door on him. When she opened the box for Paris to see, Paris couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. She was fairly confident all of her blood stopped flowing. Joy smiled over the top of her horn-rimmed glasses.

“You were lucky they were in your size, huh?”

The diamond shoes glittered from inside the box like a thousand tiny stars, pulled from the sky and collected just for her.

“I'm supposed to wear those? That's insane!”

Joy chuckled and pointed to the chair in front of the vanity, where dozens of bottles and tubes and palettes of powder had already been laid out.

“Have a seat, Miss Martell. You have a ball to get to.”

* * *

Paris looked at herself in the mirror, and couldn't even believe that the reflection looking back at her was her own. The gorgeous blue dress perfectly complimented all of her curves, the lace clinging in all the right places and the silk and chiffon flowing all around her like crystalline water. Joy had tamed Paris' hair and coaxed it into elegant movie star curls, with one simple silver barrette holding all of the hair back from her face. Her makeup was clean and uncomplicated, with just a few swipes of golden eyeshadow complimenting her huge sparkling eyes.

At the last moment, Paris picked up the bottom of the dress, and watched as the diamond shoes glittered in the mirror. She couldn't help but twirl in a circle, and take in the sight of

the glimmering shoes dancing underneath the blue silk. Paris had never felt so beautiful in her life. She couldn't wait to show the dress to Alex.

As if he could read her mind, a knock on the door broke her reverie, and sent Paris running to let Alex in. But when she happily opened the door, it wasn't Alex standing on the other side. It was a woman, taller than Paris by six inches at least, impeccably dressed in a strapless, tight black evening gown and giant silver stiletto heels.

She had a fluffy white fur over her arm, and huge black sunglasses covering her eyes, even though it was night and not terribly bright in the hall of the guest wing. Paris almost stumbled backward, overcome by the feeling that she was faced with a fairy tale villain, and not a mere mortal woman. Paris had no idea what to say, but she didn't have long to worry about it because the woman spoke first.

“Paris, right? Is that your real name? Paris?”

Paris nodded her head.