By the fourth day, the palace’s PR machine was approaching her about doing an interview.
‘The world wants to know about you. If we don’t give them the information, they’ll fill the void.’
Phoebe wasn’t interested in that.
On the fifth day she received a message, out of the blue, from Christopher. It was so unexpected she clicked into it without taking the time to prepare and read his words with a wave of nausea:
Phoebe, we need to talk. Call me. X
She flicked out of the message, with warm cheeks and a sense that she’d done something wrong.
The palace continued to gently question her about doing an interview. She broached the subject with Octavio two nights before their wedding. ‘If you want to do an interview, then do one.’
Hardly helpful.
Nor was it helpful that he continued to sleep on the sofa, that he hadn’t even suggested joining her in bed since that first night.
To be fair, he was doing exactly what she’d asked him to do, but Phoebe’s whole body was screaming for him now, and in the maelstrom of all this, she could only think how comforting it would be to havehim.To at least have that touchstone to cling to, when everything else felt so wildly out of control. Not that sex with him wasincontrol, but it was predictably wild, and reassuringly passionate. It made Phoebe feel alive and in the moment. It made it impossible to think about anything else, to worry, to stress. It was just…good.
But Octavio was acting as though she barely existed. He was in the apartment sparingly, the palace was too huge to run into him, and she gathered he was busy with government matters, meaning Phoebe was left to do her lessons with the private tutors that had been arranged for her, in peace.
Too much peace.
Too much time to scroll her phone and read the comments and articles and predictions and feel like her tummy had been hollowed out.
The worst were the ones that were true. Comments like:
It’s obviously just because of the babies. No way would sexy King O marry someone like her except for the pregnancy.
On the morning of the wedding, Phoebe got through the extensive preparations by separating herself from her body. She stood in the middle of the suite as a team of stylists set to work on her hair, skin, make-up, nails, feet. Everything. She extended her arms when they asked her to, pursed her lips, angled her head, whatever they needed she did, and when it was time to slip into the stunning designer gown Marie had arranged for her, she was careful and neat and very still as they fastened the dozens of buttons that ran down the back.
In the fuss of preparations, when Phoebe was ready, the door opened and a beautiful woman with hourglass curves and shiny honey-brown hair sashayed confidently towards Phoebe. She had a kind of beauty that was rare, and unfair to other women. Her skin was soft and supple, youthful, her eyes were stunning in shape and colour, her lips a full, curving line, painted a dramatic red. But she also seemed to glow with kindness. ‘Can we have a moment?’
Phoebe knew who she was immediately. This woman had the same innate confidence as her royal cousin—this must be Xiomara, whom she’d heard Octavio speak of a couple of times.
‘I’m glad I finally get to meet you,’ Xiomara said, when they were alone. ‘My cousin is very protective of you.’
‘Is he?’
‘Oh, yeah. He’s been keeping you locked up so you had time to get ready for the wedding. I told him I’d be better at helpingyou than anyone else, but he disagreed.’ Xiomara rolled her eyes. ‘You know how insufferable he can be.’
‘Oh, I sure do,’ Phoebe agreed, liking the other woman immediately.
Xiomara grinned, then studied the bride. ‘You look beautiful, by the way.’
‘It’s all their work.’ She gestured towards the closed door. ‘I’m just the canvas.’
‘Don’t be so self-deprecating.’
Phoebe opened her mouth.
‘No, I mean it.Don’t. There’s a pack of wolves out there, and they’ll eat you alive if you give them the slightest chance. You have to appear confident even when you don’t feel it, okay?’
‘You’re right, you would have been way better at preparing me. What else?’
‘Bet you wish you could have some champagne right now, huh?’
Phoebe laughed. ‘Actually, I wish I could have a shot of something stronger, but I’m not even drinking water because I don’t want to have to pee again.’
