“This is nuts,” Zoya murmurs to me as she plates another tray of bacon-wrapped shrimp. The noise in the orangery is reaching ear-shattering proportions. “It sounds like we’re in the middle of the Lithos jungle.”

“I know.” It seems like we’ve stuffed a thousand people in the orangery, but it’s only a few dozen children and their parents. Honestly, though, the wedding wasn’t as elaborate as this baby shower. I run a hand over my huge belly. The heir to the throne stirs. “Give me one of those.”

Zoya starts to hand a toothpick to me before halting, mid-air. “You hate shrimp. Ever since you watched that Discovery channel show about how they trawl the ocean floor and hoover up the scraps at the bottom, you couldn’t bring yourself to eat that trash.”

I take it and pop the vile thing in my mouth, moaning in pleasure. “It’s wrapped in bacon. I’d eat kale if you stuffed it inside some bacon fat. God, this is good. How are you so good at this?” I gobble down three more in quick succession

“It’s literally my job. And your job is to go out there and mingle with your guests. You’re not Maid Penelope anymore. You’re the queen.”

“The queen should be able to hide in her kitchen if she wants,” I grumble. “Thom certainly waves his king’s privilege around non-stop.” Last night, he ended dinner with the Hou’s early because he said the way I ate my soup was so sexy he couldn’t bear it. I think it’s the baby. Stephen and Aliyah were also at dinner last night and couldn’t stop smiling, they were so happy for us as well as in general. I don’t think he regrets abdicating for one second.

“Speaking of delicious things, Thom is looking particularly edible today.” Zoya bites her fist.

He does look amazing. The cream-colored pants hug his tight ass and the loose-fitting white shirt does nothing to hide his wide shoulders. The sleeves of the shirt are rolled up just enough that we can see his veined forearms and his large hands.

My insides clench in delight. Those hands are big enough to span my giant belly. Those arms are strong enough to carry me around. That body has enough stamina to keep me up all night long.

Ever since I told him I was pregnant, the man’s insatiable. It’s a wonder he can get any official state business done with all the times he’s cornering me, lifting up my skirt and taking me in the oddest places. I can’t even look at the palace guards in the eye anymore. They’ve walked in on Thom and me going at it so many times.

Zoya gives me a little push. It doesn’t move me because I’m heavier than a ship right now, but I get the message. I pick up the tray.

A dozen staff members rush to come help. I wave them away.

“But, Your Majesty, please let me carry this,” one intrepid manservant protests.

“I’m pregnant, not incapacitated.”

“Let her go. If you argue, we’ll get an hour-long lecture about how class divides are damaging to our nation and that we must all do our part to see each other as equal. Yadda yadda yadda.” Zoya rolls her eyes.

“I’m glad my words are sinking in.” I blow my best friend a kiss and then take my tray outside, trailed by a couple worried staff who hover behind me waiting for me to falter.

There are no gasps of outrage outside. For the most part, everyone is used to my “quirks,” as they are called. My years of service can’t be eradicated in a year, Thomas tells his advisors when they complain. “Besides,” he has the habit of saying, “isn’t everyone on the crown’s payroll in service to the nation?”

Still, I can tell by the glint in his eyes, he wishes I could shelve my habit until the baby pops out.

“Another month and your hands will be full of your baby, darling,” he says, whisking the tray out of my hands and onto the table full of food.

“I can’t wait.” I rub my belly again.

“Neither can I.” Thom’s hands join mine. “The little prince is sleeping,” my dear husband observes.

“Unfortunately.” The rascal falls asleep when I’m moving around, but the second I sit down, he’s awake and kicking.

“Have I told you today how absolutely fucking gorgeous you look?” King Thomas whispers in my ear as nearly a hundred guests mill about the orangery.

“Yes, this morning. When you woke me up with your head between my legs.” I flush at the memory and clench my thighs together.

“Hmmm. You’re right. I do recall saying that, but at the time, I was talking about your sweet, juicy pussy and now I’m referring to your blushing cheeks.” Thomas’s hand creeps lower, ostensibly under my belly, but he spreads his fingers wide, reminding me of how it felt when several of his digits were plunging into me, opening me up for the head of his big cock.

“I’m going to need you to stop talking,” I gasp. This pregnancy has made me so sensitive. Thom only needs to look at me in a certain way and I grow wet and ready.

“How wet are you right now?” His lips brush the top of my ear and my knees buckle.

I’d have fallen if he wasn’t standing behind me, holding me upright.

“Oh dear, I think the queen feels faint,” Thom declares. He motions over to Louis. “All this activity is putting a strain on Her Majesty,” he informs his assistant. “Please give our regrets to the guests, but allow them to remain here as long as they like.”

Thom slides a hand under my ass and sweeps me up in his arms. I grasp his shoulders and hang on. There’s no point in protesting. If Thom wants to carry me, I’m being carried. The truth is that he would be thrilled if he could make it so that I never walked a step on my own or carried so much as a piece of paper. He wants to wait on me hand and foot, and that was true even before I got pregnant.

Thankfully, we’ve come to an agreement that I will continue to do whatever I like so long as I’m not endangering the baby, but that once inside our chambers, he gets to take care of me.

It’s not a real hardship. Being the queen is good, but being the wife of Thomas Michael Silverford-Watts, King of Matlavia and Carmine, Duke of Lithos, is a fairy-tale dream come true.