25. AMANDA

Dante takes my hand as we stroll through the breezeway that leads to the north end of the palace, where Isabella’s quarters are.

“We need to start keeping up appearances,” he says.

His palm is so warm in mine. I think back to the last boy’s hand I held back in high school – Greg Puckett’s, and it was sooo sweaty – and I have to bite down on my tongue to keepfrom giggling.

It’s another postcard-perfect summer morning. I could get used to this. In fact, I guess I better get used to it, because it’s going to be my life from now on.

Or at least for a year. But I don’t want to think about that right now.

“How are you feeling after all of that?” Dante asks, and for a moment I think he’s somehow read my mind. But I realize he’s talking about the meeting with Maria.

“I actually feel good,” I say. “I mean, crazy is becoming the new normal for me. What’s a little more, right?”

“I feel the same,” he says. “And as soon as the wedding is over, things can go back to normal. Or at least as normal as my life can ever be.”

As we pass the entrance to the palace’s north garden, I see a familiar shock of white hair sweep out from a nearby alcove. It seems Auntie Isabella has found us instead.

“Dante, darling!” she calls. “And Amanda! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

She greets Dante with a kiss on the cheek, then takes my hands in hers.

“There’s the bride to be!” She looks me up and down, smiling from ear to ear. “So beautiful. And the ring!”

She holds up my left hand to get a closer look at the magnificent piece of jewelry on my third finger. I’m still trying to get used to the weight of it.

“Your mother’s ring,” she says, glancing at Dante with tears in her eyes. “She would have been so happy.”

Dante smiles and takes my hand again.

“I take it you’ve seen the news this morning then,” he says. “It was a bit of a crazy evening, to be sure. Not exactly what I had planned.”

“Oh, please,” she says, waving a hand. “I never cared for that Ranette woman. Too skinny. And her family is full of deadbeats. I won’t even mention the teeth.” She turns to me, beaming. “Not like my Amanda here. Such a natural beauty.”

I’m flattered by the attention, but it’s a bit overwhelming, too.

“You’re too kind, Your Grace,” I say.

“Let’s dispense with the formalities, darling. Isabella or Auntie will do.”

“Thank you, Auntie. I’m honored.”

This isn’t what I expected from her, but it’s just another crazy thing to add to the pile today. I suppose it’s not shocking to think she might actually have a heart and care about her nephew’s happiness.

Dante says: “Can I assume that we have your blessing then, Auntie?”

“A thousand times over,” she says. “I’m so happy you’re finally settling down, and with such a lovely girl. It’s wonderful news for Morova. Now, have you chosen a date yet?”

Dante and I exchange a glance. This might be where the other shoe drops.

“Actually,” I say timidly, “we decided to make Dante’s birthday into the wedding. We thought that, since everyone was coming anyway, why not kill two birds with one stone?”

Isabella’s eyes go wide. Is that a flash of anger in there? Here it comes. I see Dante wince slightly, bracing for impact.

“What an absolutely brilliant idea!” she caws. “Royal courtships are overrated. What’s the point in waiting, I say.”

“Git ‘er done” is out of my mouth before I realize it’s even open.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sorry,” I say. “Just a saying my father has. It means the sooner the better.”

“Ah,” she says. “Speaking of your father, Maria tells me he’s on his way here soon. And that he’s an honest-to-God American cowboy. Is it true?”

“It sure is,” I say.

“I can’t wait to meet him!”

The thought of Isabella interacting with Dad is almost enough to send me over the edge into laughter, but I manage to hold it in.

“We’ll introduce you as soon as we can,” I say.

“Please do. Now, is there anything I can do to help with the planning?”

Dante takes her hand.

“Maria and Amanda are already well into things,” he says. “All we need from you is to be there in the front row.”

“Thank you for your kind offer,” I say. “Dante doesn’t quite understand just how much work goes into a wedding. I’ll be sure to call on you soon. Your expertise will be invaluable.”

Isabella smiles and glances at Dante.

“This one is a keeper,” she says. “You’ve chosen well.”

“Can you join us for lunch?” I ask, prompting a glare from Dante.

“Alas, I have business in the city.” She places a hand on mine. “And while I’m there, I might as well start shopping for your wedding gift.”

With that, she bids says goodbye and sweeps off towards her apartments.

Dante and I look at each other, then at her receding back, then at each other again.

“Did that just happen?” I ask.

“I think it did,” he says. “I can’t believe it, but you’ve won over Isabella. You’re learning the game, Amanda. Well done.”

“Well,” I say, “I have a very good teacher.”

“Having her on our side should definitely help ease any tensions with the stodgier Morovans that Huber was talking about. We may just survive this yet.”

He takes my hand again and we continue our stroll, this time to meet Oriana and Vito at the beach.

It’s time to tell them about how their soon-to-be sort-of stepmother punched out a wicked witch last night and to show them my ring. And to prepare them to meet their soon-to-be sort-of grandpa, who’s a real-life American cowboy.

I swear to God, a screenwriter couldn’t make this shit up.