The Debutante (Season Series #2)

Chapter 48: Three Debutantes, One Crown

"Good luck, my princess," he said as they started down the velvet carpet toward the thrones at the other end of the room. With a snide remark in Ardal that set her entourage to titters, Dulciana pointed her nose in the air, following Adelaide. She tinkled and glittered as she moved, like a treasure chest come to life. I had barely enough time to wonder how incredibly weighty her dress must be before the hundreds of eyes in the ballroom turned to me.

"Chin up," Xavier said once again, giving my hand a squeeze as he hooked his arm around it. I let out a shaky breath, unable to speak.

Adelaide had knelt on a small square of red velvet carpeting to the right of the stairs leading to the thrones. The king and queen looked down at her while Dulciana approached, dropping a much shallower curtsey over the second square of velvet set directly in front of the monarchs.

I found myself holding my breath as we approached the dais. Exhaling, I gulped a fresh lungful of air, willing the tears to stay hidden behind my lacquered lashes. Feeling my suffering, Xavier gave my hand another squeeze, looking down at me with years of kindness in his eyes. I belatedly wished I'd called on him for help, as his incredible brain would have thought up some way out of this predicament that didn't involve me humiliating myself by bursting into tears before the entire court. We approached my own square before the dais and paused, Xavier breaking protocol to plant a protective kiss on the top of my head.

"Don't forget how loved you are, Libby, no matter what," he whispered, before taking a step back to retreat behind the other escorts. I couldn't bring myself to look at the royal family as I sank to my knees, fixated on the red velvet carpet that covered the marble stairs before me.

"Their Majesties King Graham and Queen Isabelle of Pretania wish to present His Royal Highness Prince Andrew's three potential brides, Her Highness Princess Dulciana of Ardalone, Adelaide Winters, and Elizabeth Marks-Whelan," the herald proclaimed as the ballroom fell silent.

I closed my eyes, forcing back the tears, before opening them to focus solely on the plush carpet before me. I started counting dust motes in a poor attempt at fighting the darkness that was about to envelop me.

Dulciana had won him. In a matter of moments, he'd be walking down to stand before her while the rest of the royal court applauded. Perhaps even Ambassador DeGallo would finally smile as the kingdoms of Pretania and Ardalone rejoiced. I shook the thought from my head and started imagining my escape plan, listing all the friends I'd send hasty goodbyes to so I wouldn't have to spend a minute longer in this infernal palace...

"And now, His Royal Highness, Prince Andrew of Pretania."

The trumpets blared and I bit my lip, clenching my fists in the folds of my skirt. Nothing was worth having to witness this, to stand by with a smile while the love of my life chose someone else to marry. I would willingly go bake cakes or scrub floors for the rest of my days instead, if it meant I could run away before I had to watch Andrew escort Dulciana up to stand beside his parents.

I had wanted to endure today for him, but now that I was faced with it, now that I could hear his boots on the marble between his parents' thrones, I couldn't breathe. I desperately tried to quell my shaking, but it was all I could do to keep from passing out on the cold marble floor. I squeezed my eyes shut as my peripheral vision caught his foot taking the first step down towards us. My already broken heart would shatter into a million, irreparable pieces if I had to watch him smile as he bowed before Dulciana.

His steps seemed to stretch into an eternity, positively thunderous to my ears. I'd counted them as I'd walked down the aisle towards the dais: he had seven steps before he reached his three debutantes. Seven steps he would descend alone, then seven steps he would ascend with his new bride-to-be, leading her to her permanent place beside him, on the crown princess' throne.

Six...

The quizzical expression on his face when he stumbled upon me in the north building hallway on my first night at the palace.

Five...

The way he'd cornered me at last Season's masquerade, where I'd been stupid enough to rebuff him.

Four...

His lips on mine in the moonlight of Audra's workshop.

Three...

The pain on his face when we'd fought in the Winter Garden.

Two...

His green eyes gazing up at me as he sank to a knee last night.

One...

The way his face had lit up with wonder when I'd told him that I loved him in return, all those nights ago...

I fought hard to keep down a sob. Dulciana would be looking at him now, triumph masked by reverence in her eyes. I waited to hear the gentle click of her heeled slippers as she rose, her hand in his.

But the click never came. Swallowing hard, I opened my eyes, clamping my teeth together to steel myself against whatever painful sight I was sure to witness.

Instead of staring down at red velvet carpet, I was staring at a pair of shining black leather boots. I had to blink several times before my entire world tilted on its axis.

Andrew was looking down at me, a gentle, encouraging smile on his face as he held out his hand. I inhaled for the first time since his boots had hit the marble, the sound coming out as a gasp.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, looking up at him.

"I'm choosing you," he whispered back.

"But-" I began, a million thoughts clamouring to the forefront of my mind. What about the treaty? What about the king?

"Plans and backup plans and a brother named Thomas," he smiled, "Now stop stalling because I'd very much like to marry you, Libby."

I could feel the tears running hot down my face now, the floodgates unprepared for this new turn of events. But through the tears I smiled, my face splitting in a grin so wide my cheeks ached.

I unclenched my fists, taking Andrew's warm hand with my icy one, as he helped me to my feet. Dulciana's face had warped into a snarling mask of utter disbelief as Andrew led me past her. Behind her, Ambassador DeGallo's face was a mottled purple, his murderous gaze fixed on someone up on the royal dais. We paused at the base of the stairs, Andrew granting me a moment to adjust my skirts so I wouldn't step on them as we climbed. Tucking my hand into the crook of his elbow, he gave it a squeeze as we took the stairs one at a time, rising up towards his family.

Plucking up the last reserves of my courage, I looked up at the king and queen. The king's displeasure was masked behind a stony smile, but that was to be expected now that Andrew had botched his planned alliance. Next to him, the queen had happy tears in her eyes as she inclined her head to me. Beside her, Thomas and Anne were grinning, Thomas shooting me a wink until Anne elbowed him.

"Presenting his Royal Highness, Prince Andrew of Pretania, and his betrothed, Miss Elizabeth Marks-Whelan," the herald called out. The hall before us sank to their knees and I felt my breath catch again. Xavier caught my eye as he took a knee, tears shining in his blue eyes as he held a hand to his chest. Beside him, Georgina was grinning, her dimples on display as she dipped a curtsey.

Overwhelmed, I looked up at Andrew only to find him looking at me. When our eyes met, his crinkled with a smile as he brushed his thumb across my cheek, wiping away the tears.

"You look beautiful, my love," he whispered. I couldn't help but laugh as he led me to sit on the cushy little throne next to his.

"I think I'm stuck in a dream," I whispered back. It was Andrew's turn to laugh, his eyes dancing in that magical way as he leaned down to kiss me. The rest of the court rose, bursting into applause as my heart filled with light, joy, and hope.