Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

B EA UGONIA COULD ONLY stare at herself in the full-length mirror. She looked like an entirely different person in this beautifully elegant white gown. A whole team of people she didn't know had swept in and done her hair and makeup. They had placed a glittering necklace of royal jewels on her neck. Her mother had provided a Rendall tiara.

Beaugonia was used to nice things, being a princess and all, but Zia usually got the full glamour treatment. Beau didn't go to parties or events. She wasn't seated at dinners. Her faults , as her father liked to call them, had meant she'd been hidden away for most of her life.

So she felt a bit like she was playing dress-up. Like this was all make-believe.

She wished Zia was here, though Zia didn't know what Beau was doing yet, by design. Zia would try to...stop this, no doubt. But she had Cristhian and the twin babies she was growing to worry about.

Still, it would've been nice to have someone on her side with her. Beau felt surrounded by enemies. Which was an exaggeration of course. People had to care about her to be her enemy. None of Lyon's staff thought much of her beyond their job. She was little more than a doll to them.

Her mother watched with shiny eyes and clasped hands like this was all a joy. And Beau wanted that to warm her, but she knew she was only in this strange position because her mother had never stood up for her. Or Zia.

Mother had never been an active enemy, but she had always been a passive one.

Father was somewhere, no doubt grousing about how she'd pulled one over on him, but he could hardly ruin anything without making their own kingdom look badly. So while he was an enemy, per usual, he was a neutered one.

That brought Beau some joy. That and the fact that tomorrow they would leave, and she would not really have to deal with them much anymore. She would have her own life. Her own kingdom.

No more locked rooms. No more being hidden away. She would finally be... someone .

"You look beautiful," her mother said, with tears in her eyes.

Beaugonia managed a smile at her mother. A woman who meant well but had no backbone. No...fight. She had let her daughters be bullied and threatened and manipulated their entire lives.

Beaugonia loved her mother, but she could not respect her, or lean on her, or trust her.

Beau was alone.

You have been on your own these past few months and you have done very well , she reassured herself.

She even gave her reflection a little nod in the mirror. She might miss Zia, but she was doing all of this for her sister.

And that alone would get her through.

Beau knew better than to worry about panic. A panic attack would come or it wouldn't, but worrying about if she would have one would only exacerbate the problem.

Things had come too far to be derailed by the attacks that had gotten her labeled weak , an embarrassment , defective and so on. This was a new life.

She had faith that she could keep her panic attacks hidden from Lyon. Particularly in a castle the size of this one. Divio wasn't known for wanting to hear from a princess , what with all their outdated ideas about male heirs and so on. Besides, once they had said heirs, Beau wouldn't need to spend much time with Lyon at all. She could just focus on being a mother.

A future that filled her with hope and joy. Maybe she hadn't thought much of being one before Zia had fallen pregnant, but now she thought... She wanted the chance to be everything her mother had never been. She wanted the chance to love, as fully and unreservedly as she loved her sister.

It wouldn't be her husband, but it could be her children.

"We will move to the chapel, Your Highness."

Beau smiled at the staff person and allowed a whole passel of people to lead her out of the room she'd been getting ready in and through long, wide hallways. Ancient hallways. How many women had walked down these halls in a fancy white dress to marry a man they didn't even know?

Probably quite a few. She wasn't unique. She was taking her place in the rich, bizarre tapestry of royalty. It was kind of like joining a club. And since she'd never been able to join much of anything, this felt like a positive spin on things.

She was brought to a halt in front of giant, dark wooded doors while a staff member whisked Mother off. So Beau was left with only the stern woman who seemed to be running tonight's event.

They waited there for ticking moments while Beau felt her heart beat faster and faster. What were they waiting for? What was she doing?

And just about the time she thought she might blurt out some ridiculous excuse to turn and run , the woman stepped forward and pulled open the chapel door. She gestured Beau inside.

And there was nothing to do but step forward, into the chapel.

It was a huge rook. Soaring ceilings, colorful stained glass. Much more ornate than the chapel back home which had a cozy, sturdy quality to it. This felt...delicate. Elegant. She could picture generations of Divio citizens and their pride in such a feat of architecture and art.

She almost smiled. Though she preferred sturdy and cozy, there was something genuinely uplifting about the way humans in all their faults and frailties could somehow put together something that looked like this.

A nudge had her remembering herself. She wasn't meant to stand here and gaze at the stained glass adoringly. She was meant to walk forward. She was meant to marry the prince.

There were few audience members as she walked down the long aisle, trying to remind herself to be graceful and calm instead of her usual efficient march.

The countess sat on one side in the front pew, her father on the other. A few staff members standing in the shadows, except the one currently ushering Mother to her seat next to Father.

And then in the center there was Lyon. He stood with perfect posture in a dark suit, looking like... She could not articulate it, but she suddenly understood the novels she loved to read about reformed pirates.

He was perfectly polished, looked every inch a prince in his bespoke suit and crisp edges, but something in his eyes felt...wild. Which was ridiculous and likely her imagination. Nothing Zia had ever said and no correspondence she'd had with the prince herself pointed to anything other than a very contained, careful, determined man.

She moved closer, meeting his gaze and feeling...something she could not quite define. She had not expected...whatever this was. Because it went beyond nerves—she knew exactly what nervousness and being out of place felt like. This was bigger, deeper. Less about her and the world around her and more about something...internal.

Perhaps it was simply that he looked at her. Not with the hate her father did, or the complicated push and pull of worry and disappointment her mother did. Certainly not with Zia's fervent loyalty and overdone protective instincts.

No, he looked at her as if she were a riddle to be solved. Which wasn't romantic in any way, and she didn't expect romance, she just didn't know why the effect of it all on her was one of...anticipation.

Maybe it was just new. She'd been stuck in the same old place, being the same old person for so long. Maybe this was a fresh start.

Marrying a stranger.

Condemning herself to the unknown.

Saving Zia and her babies.

If nothing else, for the rest of her life, she'd be proud of herself for that. She would stand tall in that . Besides, what was trading one jail for another? She'd get to be a mother in this one. She'd get to have some kind of role instead of being hidden away.

So yes. No doubts. No regrets. Only I do .

Lyon watched Beaugonia's approach. She looked lovely in white, her dark hair swept back. The dress was a bit much, but she walked under the weight of it with an elegance he had perhaps not expected of the Rendall twin who'd always been hidden.

There was a determination to the set of her shoulders as she approached, but there was something in the way her gaze darted about the large room that gave a slight air of...inner timidity, underneath all that outer strength.

This was good, he assured himself. It would endear her to the public. Confidence was important, grit to a certain extent, but the hint of something softer under all she had to be as crown princess was...intriguing. Would be intriguing, to the citizens she needed to win over.

When she finally reached him after the long walk down the aisle with soft strains of music playing, she expelled a careful breath, then turned to face him.

He'd expected to see nerves on her but was gratified by the grim kind of battle light in her hazel eyes. She knew what this was, and that was all that mattered.

The minister began with his greetings. Lyon only listened with half an ear, studying his bride-to-be. She studied him right back.

It was an odd situation. Even odder than his original arranged marriage. Perhaps because he'd gone out of his way to choose Zia, and he'd had ample time to ensure she, and her family and her kingdom would suit.

The woman before him had searched him out. Had left the king out of all their plans. Had been...determined. Even now, her determination to see this through was clear. Quite the turn of events from her sister who had been...wary if reluctantly willing.

Still, the identity of the sister did not matter. He would give Beaugonia all the same things he'd been determined to give Zia. A good life. A strong partnership. Children. Perhaps there would not be love or the freedom to do whatever she pleased, but Lyon was certain stability was better than all of that.

He was given the cue to agree to enter into marriage and offered a solemn "I do." A few words later, and Beaugonia was doing the same.

"You may kiss your bride," the minister intoned.

Her gaze flickered for just a moment at that. There were certainly some aspects of this arrangement that needed to be discussed that he had not felt comfortable putting in the emails and phone calls that had occurred in the past two days solidifying their arrangement.

But a kiss to seal the wedding ceremony was necessary and accepted, and while he and his mother might know this was a business arrangement, while Beaugonia herself might know, he wanted the whole of Divio to buy into the potential for a love story.

In other words, he wanted the photo op. So he dipped his head. He paused for a moment, waiting for her eyes to lose that wide-eyed trapped look about them. But they didn't. So he leaned closer, until there was just a breath between their mouths.

"Breathe, tesoruccia ," he murmured. Low enough only she could hear. "It is only the brush of lips."

Her breath shuddered out, and this...did something to him. He did not know how to characterize it. A strange... sensation . Effervescent and light. When for as long as he could remember his life had been about carrying the weight of what needed to be done.

He wasn't sure he liked it, but that same responsibility demanded he not draw this out any longer. So he touched his mouth to hers. And, as he'd promised, it was only the slight brush of lips.

Nothing more.

No matter how it felt like more . How it opened up interesting possibilities of what more would need to entail eventually.

He straightened, trying to not let the wariness inside of him show on his face. Because there was... something there.

Attraction, simple as that, he supposed.

He had not expected any hint of chemistry with whomever his bride turned out to be. That wasn't the point. He wasn't sure he liked it, but he supposed as long as it was under his control, it might be useful.

"Welcome to your new kingdom, mi principessa ," he offered.

She sucked in a deep breath, then nodded. "Thank you, mio marito ," she returned, with decent enough pronunciation of his native tongue, all in all. She had clearly practiced, which was a nice gesture. One he appreciated.

Because the newly minted Princess Beaugonia Traverso was going to be everything he needed. There were no other options.