I bring my legs down and sit up on the table. If someone had to confirm my virginity, I suppose I’m glad it was someone so understanding.

Maria hands me my clothes and I head behind a screen to change, thus ending one of the most surreal experiences of my life. And that’s saying something, given the past few days.

“I’m not sure how you would make a record of this,” Maria says to the doctor. “I suppose an affidavit of some sort will suffice.”

“I’ll come up with something,” she says, shrugging her bony shoulders. “As the Americans say, this isn’t my first rodeo. Things have changed since the ‘70s, but I’m sure a simple certificate with my seal will be enough.”

As I emerge from behind the screen, I see Maria’s brows knit.

“I’m not sure I understand your meaning,” she says.

“I did the same for Lia before she married Nero.”

Lia and Nero? They were Dante’s parents. What is she talking about?

“You had to certify that Dante’s mother was a virgin before her wedding?” Maria asks.

“Of course,” the doctor says. “Just as I’m doing now. What’s confusing you?”

“What about Adriana? Did you examine her before she married Albert?”

Dr. Sabine blinks at Maria through those huge glasses.

“Of course not,” she says. “The decree only applies to the betrothed of the prince. Any daughters of the royal family can apparently screw a whole battalion and still get married, if they choose. But, of course, they don’t inherit the monarchy.”

Maria looks at me. “So Dante’s parents knew about the decree,” she says. “But they died before they could pass it along to Dante. And there would have been no point telling Adriana, because it didn’t apply to her.”

I shake my head. This kind of thing is impossible to wrap my head around. Most normal people only have to worry about getting to the church on time.

Dr. Sabine holds up her hands in surrender.

“I don’t understand,” she says. “You’re saying Dante didn’t learn about the decree from his father? Then how did he find out?”

“By sheer good fortune,” says Maria. “A colleague of Amanda’s found it hidden inside the handle of the Trentini sword. How it got there no one seems to know.”

The doctor’s eyes go wide as a look of horror steals across her withered face.

“Lieber Gott,” she breathes. “It never occurred to me to tell the boy about the decree when his parents were killed. Oh my heavens, what have I done?”

I put a hand on hers. The skin is thin and papery.

“It’s not your fault,” I say. “You’re a doctor, you had more important things to think about.”

“But if the decree hadn’t turned up…”

“It did. There’s no reason to worry. The past is the past.”

“Amanda is right,” says Maria. “If anyone is to blame, it’s Carlo. He was the Trentini’s chief counsel and advisor. He should have known.”

Dr. Sabine shakes her head.

“No, no, Carlo is not responsible,” she says. “He was still in private practice when Lia and Nero got married. He didn’t assume his father’s post until the year Adriana was born.”

I shrug. “It doesn’t matter now, anyway. My dad always says you never truly fail until you start blaming somebody else.”

Maria nods, but her face is still pulled into a frown.

“I agree,” she says. “But we still have the question of how the decree ended up in the sword.”

“Enough with the decree,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Dr. Sabine has confirmed that I’m a virgin, so we’re good. I’ve got ten days to plan a royal wedding, and the prince and I have to be ready for the paparazzi tomorrow. Let’s focus on the now, okay?”

Maria finally flashes a smile with just enough apology in it. “You’re right,” she says. “I’m sorry for pulling us away from the task at hand.”

She turns to Dr. Sabine.

“Doctor, the nation is in your debt, as always.”

The old gal smiles and shakes Maria’s hand. Then she turns to me and pulls me into a fragile embrace.

“Thank you for your understanding, my dear,” she says. “And my heartfelt congratulations to you both. I know you will make Dante very happy. God knows he deserves it.”

Awww. Tears well up and threaten to spill onto her shoulder. It seems like I’m always on the verge of crying lately. I suppose that’s just part of being a bride. Even a fake one.

“Well,” Maria says with a clap of her hands. “Now that this is out of the way, you get to have some fun. It’s time for you and Dante to make your public debut.”

“What do you have planned?” I ask warily.

Her grin is just mischievous enough to make me worry.

“Wait and see,” she says. “Let’s just say your passport is about to get some stamps.”