Chapter one
Alessia
Istand tall, hold my shoulders back, and confidently point to the man at the very end of the row.
“Him.”
He’s the one I’ve been staring at all evening, the perfect one for the role I have in mind.
Bright, lovely brown eyes.
Jet-black, messy wavy hair.
Average build, lean muscle structure, and a rather attractive jawline.
Cute dimples framing his charming smile, and a swoon-worthy laugh to accompany it.
He is confidence, popularity, and quick wit wrapped up in a nice, neat package called Aurelio Autumnspell.
Yes, he’ll do nicely; in fact, he may play the role so well, I’ll stop guiding him altogether.
The role?
My husband, the charming new prince of the Holy Nation of Celestia—and a certifiable airhead that will stay out of my way, please the people, and keep prying eyes off my private time as I tend to my royal duties.
Finally, I have the authority to do what I’ve always dreamed of, and no royal advisor, aging father, or overzealous servant will get in my way. My lifelong dream will come to fruition shortly after I play my role of Princess Alessia Moonbreaker, the proud, strong, and benevolent leader of the nation of Celestia, reveling in the wake of her big day: Coronation Day.
Specifically, I have to get through the last hour of my Coronation Day, which is this annoying Wedding Ball that I’m forced to attend.
No queen may be crowned until she finds her king and changes his last name. I must parade around the central hall of the palace, speak with all twelve of my potential suitors, who the royal advisors have pre-approved for their strength, intellect, and aristocratic bloodlines, and then choose one from among them at the very end of the ball.
That moment has come, and I’ve made my choice.
Aurelio is the one.
I will bring my kingdom the glory it deserves, and for that to happen, I need the people’s eyes to be elsewhere, on someone as distracting as this man. Especially with him standing here in his finest tailored suit, the black of his suit jacket darker than night, and the white of his undershirt brighter than pure sunlight, he appears as the finest gentleman in all of Celestia. The light in his eyes matches the bright grin on his face, and the slight tinge of pink in his cheeks gives him just the right touch of humility. Judging by his copper suntanned skin and the way he fills out his clothes, he trains hard as a knight. The men will look up to him, and the women will swoon over him.
He’s perfect.
“Princess Alessia has chosen her husband!” one of the royal advisors, Gemma, announces.
A great applause goes up around the hall. Aurelio, surprisingly unfazed by my decision, approaches me with the same expression as he’s worn the entire night: a slight smile, bordering on an empty-headed grin. When he stands beside me, I realize he’s only a few inches taller than me, likely an inch shy of six feet tall compared to my five feet, eight-inch frame. He doesn’t attempt to put his arm around my waist; a good choice, as I would punish him for it later if he dared to touch me. We just met, after all.
I stare out at the crowd from my vantage point at the top of the raised platform, called the Protestation Stage. Behind me, the Queen’s throne, an ancient hand-carved chair made from the wood of a tree that has long gone extinct, sits in its gilded glory. Pure gold fills in the wood designs of the throne, causing it to sparkle under the light of the seven glass chandeliers equally spaced out across the ceiling above. The enormous stained glass windows that line the walls, depicting scenes of our country’s ancient queens, heroes, and founders, remain faintly lit by the moonlight outside. The marble flooring, walls, and pillars that remain a staple of this palace’s architecture make the room appear unnaturally bright, even in the dimmer warm lighting of the chandeliers.
There are people gathered all across the hall below, some sitting at the three long tables spaced out on the main floor, and others standing in the aisleways on either side of the hall. All of them resemble Aurelio and I’s dress, sporting either a three-piece suit or an elegant ball gown. A few of the women wear a suit coat overtop of their gowns.
How I envy them. I've been struggling all night with this obnoxiously red, glittery monstrosity they forced me into. It shows far more of me than I appreciate, with a low A-line and a wide slit starting at my left hip, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. The royal advisors insisted on it, and what the royal advisors say, goes—or, at least, that’s how it did go before.
Now, I’m calling the shots.
Gemma approaches Aurelio and I, a broad smile on her face. She’s the only one of the royal advisors that’s ever respected my wishes, and she’s going the extra mile to hurry this ceremony for me now. I shoot her an appreciative smile as she places the simple ruby-studded gold tiara on my head. Then she hands me a silver and sapphire bracelet, and I turn to Aurelio, gesturing to his wrist.
“Last chance to back out,” I say unceremoniously.
Aurelio shakes his head. “Why would I deny you on the night of your great day, my lady? If this is your will, then I gladly accept.”
I roll my eyes. “There’s no need to be so formal. Save it for the public addresses. Those are exhausting enough.”
