Reign (American Royals #4)

by Katharine McGee

Oh, how they would punish her for this canceled wedding. When Beatrice had broken off her engagement, a bill had cropped up in Congress attempting to remove her from the throne. And she was a royal by birth!

There were a few staff members bustling through the room: plucking a flower from an arrangement if it looked the slightest bit tired, checking the place cards on the dinner tables. Beatrice called out, “We need a moment, please,” and they scattered like leaves blown by the wind.

Louise gasped, her manicured hands flying to her mouth, but Beatrice didn’t flinch.

“Two canceled weddings in the span of a year,” Louise chimed in. “No one will come to your next one.”

“Come work for me,” Louise urged. “After seeing you in action just now, I realize that you might be just the person I need. Someone who can see all the pieces on the chessboard and how to play them. Someone cunning and insightful and manipulative.” “You say that like it’s a good thing.” It felt surprising, hearing Louise acknowledge the parts of her that Daphne had always, painstakingly, kept hidden.

“Quit wasting your talents trying to become a princess, and come work in real politics.” For years, Daphne had tried to prove she was special by attaching herself to a special man. But maybe she didn’t need to prove anything at all. Maybe she was special all on her own.

Somehow, Beatrice was unsurprised when Teddy’s blond head appeared in the doorway. He always did have a sense for when she needed him.

Beatrice stuffed her hands deeper into the pockets of her jacket, an old one of her mom’s that she’d found in the coat closet and thrown on without really noticing.

“I do. I like the friction.” Somehow Teddy made that sound a little bit flirtatious. “I want the kind of love I have with you: extraordinary, breathtaking, wondrous love. It might be difficult at times, but the best things in life always are. Nothing

Teddy’s voice grew husky as he added, “I know better than to try to pick and choose the pieces of you to love.”

Franklin was barking cheerfully in the distance, collecting stray sticks from the orchard and then dropping them again. Beatrice was still holding tight to Teddy’s hands.

“Marry me, Beatrice.” She couldn’t speak as Teddy unbuttoned his coat and reached into his jacket pocket for a velvet box. He opened it, revealing a beautiful sapphire engagement ring. At the sight of it, a memory stirred loose.

“There’s no chance I’ll fit into Daphne’s wedding gown.” “Good thing your wedding gown is still in the palace,” Teddy reminded her. At that, a wild, eager laugh bubbled out of Beatrice, the sort of giddy laugh that was normally Sam’s territory.

“Okay,” she said slowly. If loving someone was a leap of faith, then she was ready to jump. Teddy sucked in a breath. “That’s a yes?” “It’s a yes.” He startled her by reaching under her armpits to lift her, spinning her around in the air so that her hair whipped out in the wind.

Gabriella had lobbed the secret about Daphne and Ethan into the room like a live grenade.

“You set the pace, Nina.

The bodice was a tiny bit snug over Daphne’s cleavage, though no one would dare say so.

“Do it, or I’ll…” “You’ll slap me again?” Daphne asked, with an unmistakable—and uncharacteristic—bite of defiance.

Nina took a hesitant step forward. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.” “When I set my life on fire, I like to stick around and watch it go up in flames,” Daphne said laconically.

I’m leaving the country for a while.” “So am I, actually,” Nina told her. “Really? Where?” “Oxford.” “Oh, that program through the English department? Congratulations, Nina.” Daphne tried not to sound jealous. She had always wanted to apply to something like that—if she’d gotten to be a student.

time.” “I can’t believe you thought I would do that! I barely agreed to work with you, and Gabriella is a million times worse.” “That’s one of the nicer things anyone has ever said to me.”

The heavy hem of her skirts kept dragging, forcing Beatrice to kick them out in front of her so that she didn’t trip. She could have asked her mother to walk her down the aisle, or Jeff. But as Samantha had pointed out, there was no one in the country who outranked her, and it felt right that Beatrice should be the one to give herself away.

When she finally reached Teddy, a smile illuminated his features. “I love you so much,” he whispered. “You look beautiful.”

Exactly

The Archbishop of Georgetown, an elderly man with kind eyes who had known Beatrice since she was little, bowed to her—the only acknowledgment of her sovereignty that Beatrice would allow.

Laughter bubbled up around them as their families came forward, their faces bright with joy and a healthy dose of shock. Beatrice’s mom was crying; Teddy’s mom wrapped her arms around her; Teddy’s younger sister, Charlotte, was recording everything on her phone; and Beatrice saw Sam whispering something to Teddy’s two younger brothers—probably some stunt she wanted to pull at the reception, Beatrice thought fondly. She realized that this was how it would be from now on, their two families blending into a rowdy and chaotic whole, and felt so happy she almost hurt from it.

As Beatrice walked inside, a sea of flashbulbs immediately lit up. She was still wearing her bridal gown—the optics of her addressing the press as a newly married woman were too irresistible, because who would dare argue with a bride?—but

A massive antique mirror reflected all the opulence back to her, the patina on its golden frame suggesting that countless women had admired themselves here over the years.

Perhaps that was the best thing about this job: she no longer had to hide just how smart she was.

Nina loved Oxford. She loved the creak of the staircase that led to this office, the treads warped from centuries of scholarly footsteps. She loved the city, with its winding cobblestone paths and quaint bakeries, a place that had remained seemingly untouched by the passing of time. It had been freezing when she arrived, and as she’d wandered the snowy, fairy-tale campus, she’d wrapped Jamie’s scarf tighter around her neck and thought how lucky she was to be here.

Jeff started walking quickly, then seemed to notice he was outpacing Nina and slowed his steps. He was distinctly nervous.

She felt guilty that she’d let him make his grand declarations without saying this sooner. “I’m still seeing Jamie.” Jeff’s hopeful expression crumpled. “Oh,” he breathed.

It was such a monumental moment, the coronation of the very first queen in America’s history. Which explained why Beatrice didn’t look like Sam’s sister anymore. She didn’t look like a mortal woman at all, but like a goddess, or a painting come to life.

Her sister stared at her in shock. Obviously, no one ever said Thanks, but I’m okay when offered the highest order of royal titles.

Jeff stood and came to kneel before her throne, bowing his head like an Arthurian knight. As the most senior peer in the realm, he was the first to pay her homage.

I love this!

Once upon a time that had been Beatrice’s job—at her father’s coronation, when she was eleven, she had been the first to approach the throne and lead the obeisance. She still remembered the girlish satin bow on her dress, which had been in the way when she knelt down. Beatrice had tugged at it futilely, then met her father’s gaze, and he’d winked at her—just once, but the wink was unmistakable.

Awww

Looking at him now, Beatrice felt her heart burst with love. How foolish she had been to think that getting married before her coronation would weaken her. Love could only ever strengthen you; it lifted you up and made you a better version of yourself.