I’ve never seen the chapel in Ardglass Palace this full before. I stand at the end of the aisle, on a length of red carpet stretching all the way to the door.

The Royal Navy uniform I’m wearing feels stiff and uncomfortable, but maybe it just feels that way because I’m nervous. My crown, which I rarely wear, feels heavy and foreign on my head.

My father and Priscilla are already seated in the front row.

Priscilla refused to go to the announcement of our engagement, even though she was in the same palace when it was happening. But she can’t just skip my wedding without social consequences, especially given how much the people have grown to love Rosemary.

Rosemary is beautiful, graceful, and down to earth. The people seem to find her relatable because she’s not rich and she doesn’t come from nobility.

For all Priscilla’s attempts at staying relevant, Rosemary has accomplished much more at boosting the popularity of the royal family than the evil queen could ever dream to.

Of course they love my girl, I think to myself as my chest swells with pride. Just look at her, walking down the aisle on her father’s arm. She looks radiant in her white lace dress.

I heard she caused some panic among the wedding organizers when she told them she was going to do her own make-up.

I’d have to ask her about that later tonight, when we’ll finally be alone. Ironically, it seems like there’s so much wedding stuff to do that I can’t spend much time with my bride today—the day that we vow to be together for the rest of our lives.

As she slowly makes the slow procession through the crowd, Rosemary’s not looking to her left or her right, even though all eyes are on her. Those big brown eyes are fixed only on me.

That’s my girl. She doesn’t care about the decorations or the number of the guests. Too much press attention annoys her and she’d rather spend her time in the garden than at the shops.

She’s so different from the snobby, privileged princesses and socialites who’d kill for a chance to be the queen. And that’s why I love her. She’s here for me; not for the benefits of being with me.

Even though she’s a princess now, she’s still humble and real, and I think that’s why people relate to her. And they like me by extension because I can’t be a horrible person if someone like her could fall for me.

Rosemary’s father nods at me.

Quentin didn’t like us being engaged at first, which is understandable, considering the way things were at the very beginning. But Rosemary and I chipped away at him, until finally he saw how much we love each other and relented.

Now, he seems to be happy for us.

I have to hand it to Rosemary. I get the feeling that she could settle some bitter, old disputes with her powers of persuasion alone.

It probably also helps that Quentin happens to have fallen in love recently.

When he was visiting Rosemary at The Alcove, he met Wanda and they hit it off. Judging by how well their relationship is going, it’s possible he won’t have to travel for work so much in the future.

Maybe he’ll move into Wanda’s inn and they’ll run the business together. At least that’s what Rosemary is hoping will happen.

She really wants her father to get away from her sisters. Maybe that way the fearsome twosome—which is what I’ve been calling Rosemary’s two sisters in my head—will learn to depend on themselves, and there will be less burden on her father as he grows older.

I think it’s a great time for the sisters to try to stand on their own two feet. Thanks to being related to Rosemary, they’ve been getting invitations to interviews at TV stations and photoshoots for magazines.

Maybe they’ll be able to use those as stepping stones to get modeling or PR jobs. Or maybe they’ll fall on their asses trying—I’m already hearing dissatisfaction among media insiders who have worked with them. Apparently, the fearsome twosome are always late and they act like divas.

I’m lucky to have fallen for the right sister.

Rosemary beams when she finally reaches the end of the aisle. She pecks her father on the cheek, then she lets go of his arm to take mine.

The cameras all around us go wild. Even though flash has been banned by the wedding organizers, the shutter sounds almost drown out the orchestral music.

The people love Rosemary. I can tell.

If I were to marry some other girl, I don’t think the public would be so quick to forgive my lie, or to accept me ,despite the domestic abuse allegations that have been flung at me.

Speaking of some other girl… Right after my engagement to Rosemary, Cheryl got some air time. She stuck to her original story, which was fine in the beginning, because people are likely to feel sympathetic to a victim of possible domestic abuse.

But then she started vehemently accusing Rosemary of being a liar and a deviant. That backfired, of course. She didn’t realize just how popular Rosemary had become. Now, even the gossip tabloids have denounced Cheryl as a fraud.

Rosemary and I hold hands and face each other as the priest tells the guests to take their seats. Rosemary gives me a happy grin, which immediately infects me with her enthusiasm. When she’s around, she fills my thoughts so completely that I’m lucky I even hear the priest prompt me for an answer.

“Will you have this woman to be your wife, and will you pledge your faith to her? Will you love her, comfort her, and keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?” the priest asks.

“I will.”

The priest repeats the same question to Rosemary, and I think my heart almost bursts when she answers, “I will.”

Even though I’ve had some time to get used to the idea of us getting married, this moment still feels surreal.

The priest asks me to repeat the traditional vows after him.

“I, James Louis Edward Arthur, take you, Rosemary Wilson, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; to love and to cherish until death do us part.”

Rosemary repeats the same words.

We debated writing our own vows, but it seems more respectful to tradition to stick with the classic vows.

I’m happy with our decision, because even though I’ve heard variations of those vows hundreds of times before, it feels different when I hear them in Rosemary’s voice, when the words slide out from between her luscious lips.

Luckily, I don’t have to wait long to kiss her. The priest announces us husband and wife, we exchange rings, I lift Rosemary’s veil, and… stop myself from going overboard.

We’re being broadcast all over the kingdom and there are little kids watching this, so it’s probably best to save the passion for later.

There’s no rush; we have the rest of our lives to do all kinds of dirty things to each other, but this is not the time.

We give each other a quick peck on the lips and take our seats while the ceremony continues with a sermon by the priest, readings from the holy book, and songs by the choir.

Even in her modest wedding gown, Rosemary looks tantalizing. I can just make out her curves underneath the delicate lace. Hell, I can close my eyes and imagine all the little details of her naked body.

But I hold myself back. We’re lucky to have survived the scandal. It’s best for us both to behave right now—at least when we’re in public.

Somehow, I’ve managed to get the king’s advisors to admit that the public has accepted our union and my status as the crown prince. They agree there’s no need to cause an upheaval by following Priscilla’s demand to make her son the first in line to be king.

Of course I had to bypass my father and Priscilla to get the advisors on my side, and I still can’t believe I managed to pull that off, but apparently I’ve won some people with my hard work in improving bureaucracy.

At the end of the religious portion of the ceremony, Rosemary and I return to the front of the chapel. We kneel on the stone steps leading up to the altar as my father places a crown on Rosemary’s head.

She looks good with a crown. Maybe we should do like my father and wear these crowns more often after all. But then again, Rosemary looks good wearing anything.

After the ceremony, we’re herded by the palace staff outside the chapel so people can take photographs of us, then we go down the hallway into the ballroom.

The palace staff has worked tirelessly to prepare my mother’s favorite ballroom for the occasion.

The chandeliers have been taken down and polished before getting reinstalled. The thick curtains have been laundered before they’re put back up, their every pleat carefully arranged. Celebratory banners have been hung all over the walls.

The ballroom has never looked more regal than it does now. If only my mother were alive to see this. If only she were alive to attend the wedding and meet Rosemary…

The crowd forms a circle around a big, empty space in the middle of the ballroom, and the music starts to play. I hold my gloved hand out for Rosemary and we start to dance to one of the oldest songs in the kingdom. We embrace and glide over the parquet floor, rolling and spinning to the tune of a flute and a harp.

I’ve never been good at dancing. But I’ve never been good at people either, and I’ve calmed down an entire kingdom of outraged people with Rosemary by my side. I’ve even managed to keep my crown safe from Priscilla’s grubby hands.

I feel like I can do anything with my new wife beside me. Her total trust and acceptance of me makes me feel like it’s okay to stop hiding, like maybe I’m not such a scandal magnet after all.

Having been different her whole life, Rosemary doesn’t care if people think she’s odd, and she has taught me that it’s okay to live authentically.

We finish our dance and finally take our seats at a long table on a raised stage. Sitting there with us are the king, the queen, my step-siblings, Rosemary’s father, and her sisters. We’re not exactly alone, but finally we have time to rest and speak in relative privacy as the guests begin to spill onto the dance floor.

“Thirsty?” I ask Rosemary.

She wears her long, honey-brown hair curled today, and it tumbles all over her shoulders when she turns to look at me. “Very,” she says.

Given the somber, proper mood of the celebration, I’ve decided to inject a little secret fun into the day. I flash her a grin, and I can tell she’s suspicious.

“I got you covered,” I say softly.

I raise my hand to catch Albert’s attention. He’s waiting for me at the end of the table. He approaches now, carrying a tray.

Albert still doesn’t know why I want him to do this, but he knows I need his help to pull it off. The banquet manager would’ve thrown away the things on that tray because they’re not new enough, or expensive enough. But my girl doesn’t care about how much things cost, or how long it has been since those things were produced.

While everyone else in the ballroom is busy dancing, Rosemary’s gaze follows Albert’s every step.

“Oh my god,” she giggles as Albert sets down the tray on the table. “I didn’t know you still had it.”

Albert pours some tea from the pot into a familiar cup, which has a small chip on the edge. “Here you are, Rose.”

“Thank you, Albert,” Rosemary says as she picks up the steaming cup and blows on the surface of the tea. Funny how something broken like that little cup can become something so precious. It’s kind of poetic.

“Don’t drop it now,” I say as Albert walks away with the empty tray.

“I won’t.” Rosemary narrows her eyes at me, even as her lips bloom into a smile. Pointing at a small bowl of sunflower seeds that Albert has left on the table, she asks, “What are those for?”

“For you to bring with you to the garden when you need a break from this,” I say, gesturing at all the stiff festivities going on around us. “Take a little detour when you go to the restroom, share the good news with your little friends.”

“I can survive without seeing the birds and the squirrels for one day, thank you very much,” Rosemary says, laughing. “But I love that you remember the little things.”

When she rewards me with such a beautiful smile, how can I not do everything in my power to make her happy?

“I love you,” she says.

“I love you, too.”

I pull her into my arms. And there, in the corner of the ballroom, I share a little private wedding kiss with my princess. My future queen.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed Rosemary and Prince James’ story.

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