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His Sword by Holly Hart (24)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

27. AMANDA

“Sleeves, darling.”

“Do you really think so?”

Sleeves, darling.”

I suppose I shouldn’t argue with the hottest dress designer in Italy, especially since he’s agreed to do a rush job just for me. But the idea just seems weird. Not exactly what I expected when I was dreaming about my Disney princess wedding as a little girl.

I look to Maria, who simply shrugs.

“It’s Andreas Fortuna,” she says, as if that’s explanation enough on its own.

It seems like Maria spends a lot of time standing next to me when I’m embarrassed. First with my legs up on Dr. Sabine’s examining table, now standing in my slip while two men with weird hairstyles measure me with long yellow tapes.

One of them measures out the length of my right arm, the other measures my left. Meanwhile, Andreas wanders around me, staring at my body and saying “Hmmmm” a lot.

“I don’t like sleeves,” says Oriana from her seat at the table in Maria’s office.

Andreas seems startled out of his calculations. He turns his bald head to Oriana and smiles, bowing low.

“Your Highness,” he says in his heavy Italian accent. “I’m simply following tradition. Grace Kelly, Princess Diana and Kate Middleton were all commoners, and they all wore sleeves.”

“Tradition is stupid.”

Maria opens her mouth to scold Oriana, but I cut her off.

“Honey, tradition is sort of my job,” I say. “I study all the traditions that are part of royal families like yours. It’s kind of like your uncle’s sword. Do you know why it’s so important?”

“No,” she says. I seem to have her attention, at least. “Why is it so important?”

“Well, your great-great-great-great grandpa carried that sword in a battle against invaders a long time ago. And ever since then, all princes have kept that sword as a tradition, because what your grandfather did was very important to the people of Morova. The sword is a symbol of Morova’s freedom. Do you know what a symbol is?”

“Yes.”

“So you see why it’s important.”

She mulls it over for a bit before nodding.

Maria smiles. “Now that we’ve got that settled – ”

“Why can’t we have new traditions?” Oriana asks.

Everyone in the room stops moving. Even Maria is quiet. I feel like laughing, but that wouldn’t be appropriate.

Andreas stares at Oriana, wide-eyed, and for a brief second I wonder if he’s going to yell at her. That wouldn’t be appropriate either, but who knows with these creative types?

“Your Highness,” he says finally. “That is brilliant.

Oriana’s face lights up.

Andreas’s two minions exchange blank looks as their boss races to the table and starts rifling through a book of patterns. Maria and I exchange glances. It’s Andreas Fortuna, that look says.

“She’s absolutely right!” Andreas cries. “Tradition is for people without imagination. Andreas Fortuna has imagination!”

After several minutes, and what seems like hundreds of pages, he stabs a finger at one.

“This,” he says, almost reverently. “This is the one. A new tradition.”

He looks up at us as if just noticing that we’re in the room with him.

“It’s a design I came up with years ago, when I was still an apprentice,” he says. “No one would give it a second look back then. But now…”

He motions for us to come and see. On the page is a stylized sketch of a dress with neckline that plunges about halfway to the navel and leaves about half the shoulder bare. The sleeves are a sheer material, barely visible, circled with same tatted lace as the bodice, and ending at the elbow.

The lower half of the dress hugs the model’s body until the knee, where it flares out and pools on the floor. It’s all capped off with a veil that falls down the open back all the way to the floor.

“It’s… stunning,” I say. Much better than what I was envisioning.

“It’s sexy!” Oriana crows.

Look at her, alarmed. “Do you know what sexy means, honey?”

She grins and wraps her arms around herself. “It’s when people hug and kiss. Mmm-mmm-wa!”

“What do you think, Maria?”

The look on her face suggests she’s not a hundred percent on board with the idea.

“It’s gorgeous, don’t get me wrong,” she says to Andreas. “But Morovans tend to be on the conservative side. I don’t know if this is exactly what they’re looking for in a royal wedding dress.”

“It’s a good thing none of them are marrying Dante, then,” I say. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time for this, and Andreas already has the design done.”

“I can have this complete and ready for final fitting in three days,” he says. “We will work around the clock if we have to.”

His minions share a look, but keep quiet.

“All right,” Maria sighs. “Given everything else that’s non-traditional about this wedding, I don’t suppose this will really make a difference.”

I hold up a hand and Oriana high-fives me. “Yay!” she cries. “New tradition!”

I get dressed as Andreas and his crew pack up their work and head off on their assignment. Once they’re gone, Maria and I sit down next to Oriana at the table.

“Can I help with more of the wedding?” she asks.

“Of course,” I say. “What would you like to do?”

“I’m going to be the flower girl; can I help choose the flowers?”

Maria opens her mouth and I cut her off again.

“Absolutely,” I say. “Maria can send you to the florist we’ve hired, and you can have final say on what they decide.”

Oriana beams as Maria glares at me.

“I can’t wait! I’m going to go tell Vito!”

She jumps up to head for the door but I snag her arm.

“Just don’t go lording it over him that you have a job, all right?”

Her face droops a bit.

“All right,” she sighs and races off.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Maria asks, eyebrow cocked.

“I want to involve the children in the wedding as much as I can,” I say. “It’s important that they feel like they’re part of it, instead of just spectators. Do you know what I mean?”

Her expression softens. “Yes. And I shouldn’t have questioned you. Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, unless it’s you forgiving me.”

“Why do you say that?”

I lay a hand on her arm. “Maria, I know I’m a Johnny-come-lately here in the palace, and especially in the twins’ lives. You’ve been the only mother they’ve ever known, and now here I am out of nowhere, taking that role away from you. I want you to know you’ll always be in their lives.”

Ever since I first met Maria, I’ve wanted to be her. She’s the smartest, most capable woman I’ve ever met. She’s the kind of woman that women like me are supposed to look up to and emulate and post quotes from on Facebook.

So I’m shocked when I see two tears spill down her cheeks.

“You continue to surprise me, Amanda,” she says, pulling a handkerchief from her purse and dabbing at her eyes. “I’ve worked very hard to always appear professional around the children. But they’re a huge part of my world.”

I wrap an arm around her neck and pull her into a hug.

“Anyone with eyes can see how much you love them, and how much they love you,” I whisper. “It’s hard to grow up without a mother – believe me, I know – and you’ve helped fill that void for them.”

She sobs quietly in my ear. I wonder how long she’s been holding onto this, trying to always keep that stiff upper lip for the sake of the monarchy. Another reminder of how bizarre this royal lifestyle can be.

“Thank you,” she says. Her handkerchief is soaked and streaked with mascara now, but at least she stopped crying before I started myself.

She composes herself and takes a deep breath.

“The twins have certainly taken to you,” she says with a brave attempt at a smile. “I’ve never seen them become so attached to anyone so quickly. Or ever, really. You seem to have a natural way with them.”

“That’s because I still haven’t grown up myself,” I say. “I feel like an imposter in this palace, like everyone else can see how much I don’t belong here with the adults.”

Maria frowns. “On the contrary. You’re the most real person within these walls, present company and your fiancé included. I appreciate your candor very much.”

I bite my lip to keep my own tears from flowing. Maybe the craziest part of this whole crazy week has been finding such a wonderful new friend in the last place I expected.

“Well, if you ever want someone to just bring a bottle of wine to your room and binge watch Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix with you, just ask.”

She laughs, hopefully signaling the end of our little cryfest. We’ve still got a lot of work to do. And I need to dive into it to keep myself from something that I didn’t mention to Maria: what happens in a year?

As if things with Dante weren’t complicated enough, I’ve already fallen in love with Oriana and Vito. If things don’t work out, what happens? Will I lose them forever?

I can’t let my mind go down that road. It has to work out, because I can’t lose them. I just can’t.

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