Once Upon a Prince (21 page)

“Your quarters are ready, sir.”

“Thank you.” Nathaniel unbuttoned his shirt, making his way to his room, his thoughts entangled, catching in his own heartstrings.

He loved Susanna.

He loved Brighton.

He disdained Ginny.

More than ever, he needed the presence and grace of the Almighty.

An usher escorted Susanna and Avery down the nave toward the altar of the breathtaking, ancient Watchman Abbey.

“This place is amazing, Suz,” Avery said, aiming her smartphone.

“Amazing in its purest definition.” Susanna examined the ribbed vaulting and flying buttresses cut from polished stone, the high-gloss wood accents, and the arched windows that were stained with religious scenes and Brighton’s history. From the resurrection of Christ to King Stephen I’s coronation to the Battle of Shores in World War II.

More and more she realized the sacredness of the day.
Nathaniel was a king on the earth
. Largeness pinged in her spirit. The extraordinary God was in attendance. The Divine was tangibly touching earth.

Susanna fluttered away her tears as prune-like Lady Margaret, along with her peckish husband, Lord Stanley, joined them in the row and scowled at her.

Susanna grabbed a pinch of Avery’s arm. “Let’s move to the back.”

“Nothing doing. These are great seats.”

“We’re not at the movies.”

“Even more reason to sit here. When are we going to be this close to a coronation again?”

Susanna made a face. She batted away tears. She thought more about her own sense of largeness while Aves took her seat like she sat front row at a Michael Bublé concert. Thrilling, sure, but not
quite
the same.

The coronation combined all that was good about life, church, weddings, babies, first kisses, and yes, front row at Bublé.

“Aves.” Susanna pinched her again with a viral whisper.

“Stop doing that.” Avery jerked her arm across her torso.

“Do you recognize these people? They’re the nobles and royals, dignitaries from the ball. Good grief.” Susanna pointed discreetly to the left corner pew. “That’s our president.”

“OMG, where?” Avery rose up, then sat down, grinning, and wedged herself against the polished pew. “We’re sitting among princes and presidents. You’re going to have to blast me out of this seat.”

“Lady Margaret is sitting just to the right of me.” Susanna tipped her head slightly, cupping her hand to the side of her face. “How’s that for dynamite?”

Avery had groused again last night on their way up to their suite after the ball about how the lady introduced herself to Susanna with such a rude confrontation.

But Susanna only heard every hundredth word or so. She was reliving her evening with Nathaniel.

Avery angled a sharp look at Lady M., as she liked to call her. “I’m still not leaving. We danced all night among these people. They love us.”

“You’re too much like your mama.” Susanna cut a glance at Lady M. She stared straight ahead. Fine, they could sit together in silence.

“Thank you. She’ll be proud to hear it.”

Susanna sighed. Aves was right. They had blended beautifully with these people last night. She opened the embossed coronation program, but scenes from last evening paraded across the scripted pages.

Nathaniel kept to his confession and treated her like a queen,
his
queen, all night. Susanna felt treasured and special. He left her a few times to dance with others, but when he did, he secured Susanna a dance with a prince, duke, or lord. But when they danced, he held her as if she were meant to be in his arms. They shared private laughs and tingling whispers.

He introduced her to his mates with his arm around her. She curtsied her wobbly curtsy before Prince William and Kate but, by gum, held her own during the conversation. She’d even made the duchess laugh, touch her arm, and declare, “I’m with Susanna.”

Surreal. Magical. Out of this world. And
over
. Done.

Last night they could pretend they had a forever, but the light of morning brought truth and reality. She was
the
American. A commoner’s commoner. Unworthy of a royal prince.

In three days, she was getting on the plane for home and never looking back. She could not, before God, interfere with Nathaniel’s destiny.

Besides, what did she have to bring to the royal table? Her extraordinary landscaping design skills? Her sharp people
skills? How she stayed with a man she didn’t love for twelve years? With a somewhat alarming amount of contentment. Her ability to make a plan.

Or her waitressing and back-of-house skills she’d honed at the Rib Shack?

Need a baby with sweet, side fries, greens, and cinn apples
.

“There’s Prince Colin.” Avery cracked Susanna in the ribs with her elbow, rising up to wave at the twenty-something prince, cousin to the king, a lower-ranking member of the House of Stratton, sitting in the forward pews.

Lean, aristocratic with an outdoorsman ruddiness, he nearly made Susanna swoon when he winked at Avery.

“Let me never wake up,” baby sister said, fainting back down to the pew, fanning herself.

“Wake up? I thought you never wanted to sleep.”

“Quiet,” Lady Margaret hissed, pointedly touching the brim of her hat. “The coronation is underway.”

Susanna scooted down an inch, ducking under the rebuke and the sea of hats in which she and Avery sat—remembering they were bareheaded.

No one said anything about hats! Susanna only hoped they weren’t offending the hallowed abbey or Nate’s family.

When the car arrived at Parrsons this morning at ten sharp to pick them up for the coronation, Rollins met Susanna at the bottom of the stairs with a look of bewilderment.

“What’s wrong?” In two short days, he’d become something of a confidant.

He cleared his throat and tilted his head toward Lady Margaret’s sprawling feathered chapeau. They needed hats? Panic. But with no time to shop, off they went to the coronation, rude and bareheaded.

Yet comfortable-in-her-own-skin Avery barely noticed. The difference in their upbringing surfaced in times like these.

Susanna was purposeful, watchful, as if on constant guard.
Avery was spirited, confident, passionate, and deeply trusting. Beautiful. A low Georgia moon on a steamy night.

So here Susanna sat, bareheaded under an ornate hemispherical dome painted with images of holy life, a boys choir began to sing “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring,” and a royal guard marched with precision toward the altar, carrying Brighton banners of chivalry.

Chills raced over her skin, over her heart. The power of the organ and the crescendo of pitch-perfect voices awakened her heart.

Forget hats. Or how baby sister Avery was raised by the same parents but in a different
house
. Forget the beauty of a low Georgia moon.

She was here to witness a man being crowned king before men and God. All else paled. She closed her eyes.
Be with Nate, Jesus
.

The song ended, a celestial crown of notes and lyrics dripped gently from the hand of God, anointing them all.

The quiet stirred the air. The narthex doors opened and the congregation rose. Led by the archbishop and priests, Nathaniel entered dressed in simple white slacks and a button-down shirt. His eyes were intent and fixed straight ahead.

Susanna’s heart turned over in her chest.

“This is so sobering,” Avery whispered, linking her arm with Susanna’s.

“I know, I can hardly breathe.”

The archbishop took his place beside the throne and stood over a kneeling Nathaniel. From the side of the abbey, remote-control cameras drifted slowly, silently, over the congregation.

Susanna glanced at the ceremony program as they were instructed to sit. A procession of nobles dressed in blue robes entered from the side of the abbey carrying the regalia and artifacts of Brighton’s ancient coronation ritual.

Susanna watched Nate, her heart fluttering, her thoughts
churning. What was he feeling? Or thinking? Her veins pulsed with anxiety and excitement for him. What a divine privilege to stand with the kings of the earth.

Nathaniel rose at the archbishop’s beckoning. In a strong, steady voice, he repeated his vows, pledging his life and loyalty to the people of Brighton and Hessenberg.

He vowed to uphold and defend Brighton’s laws, traditions, and antiquities, to defend her against enemies both foreign and domestic, to seek the good of all, to defend the faith and serve the Lord in all his ways, spoke his troth to honor King Stephen I, who dedicated the kingdom to the Lord and his Christ.

Her tears soaked the plains and valleys of her heart.
Oh, Nathaniel, you are called to be Brighton’s regent
. Gladness filled her. He had to run this kingly race. He must finish well. Even if it meant she’d never be a part of his life.

The archbishop uttered words in Latin and Greek, read scriptures, and prayed for the king, with booming sincerity, to follow in the ways of God, the church, and Brighton law.

When his voice felt silent, he placed a robe on Nathaniel’s shoulders. “The mantle of kings.” Then he set the tall, heavy, gold and gem-encrusted crown on his head. The archbishop called for the assembly to declare with joy, “Long live Nathaniel, king of Brighton Kingdom.”

Susanna raised her voice with all the people. “Long live Nathaniel, king of Brighton Kingdom.”

“Let us join together for a prayer of ascent.” The archbishop raised his hands to the congregation, inviting them to pay homage to the Lord by kneeling and praying for Nathaniel. The abbey itself seemed to bow as the guests lowered to their knees. Susanna meant to kneel along with them but she stood instead.

With the hats and heads out of her way, she had a clear, unobstructed view of King Nathaniel II in all of his glory. In his bejeweled crown and brilliant royal robes.

He stole her breath. He was a king among men. A king in heaven. She
felt
his destiny, and it seemed to awaken yet comfort her own destiny yearnings.

Just as he bowed to pray, Nathaniel shifted his stance and looked out over the abbey. In that split second, his eyes found hers and invited her into the moment with him.

She pressed her hand over her heart.
I’m with you
. A very faint smiled tugged on the edge of his lips as he bowed in prayer. Just in time for the archbishop’s first somber words, “O, Lord of heaven and earth …”

“Suz, why are you standing?” Avery said in a hoarse whisper, jerking on Susanna’s hand. “Kneel.”

She dropped to the kneeler, her heart cooling. Being swept away by the splendor and fairy-tale likeness of last night and today was foolish. Fantasy and dreams would not be her friend once she returned home.

Had she not learned her lesson with Adam?

But she prayed for Nathaniel, putting her prayers in the bowls of heaven along with the archbishop’s and the rest of the coronation guests.

But oh, she couldn’t help herself. She peeked at Nate again. He was on his knees, bent forward with his head to the altar carpet, his crown removed and on the floor beside him. Another robed bishop came to the pulpit to pray, casting Nate a curious glance, but the king never lifted his head.

When the prayers ended, the guests returned to their seats and joined in the choir’s hymn. The archbishop stooped over and tapped Nathaniel on the shoulder. For a tense moment, he didn’t move, then rose up, somber, with a posture that seemed to unnerve the holy man. He moved to the pulpit and read Psalm 21 as the bishop returned the crown to Nathaniel’s head.

“The king rejoices in your strength, Lord. How great is his joy in the victories you give!”

Next came the pledges of allegiance from the dowager queen
and HRH Prince Stephen. They knelt and swore their loyalty to King Nathaniel II.

One by one, the prime minister, the leaders of the House of Senators and House of Commons pledged their loyalty to the king, followed by other members of the royal family and the leaders of Brighton’s noble houses, then by the governor and leaders of Hessenberg.

When the final scripture was read and the closing prayer uttered, the abbey erupted with a fanfare of trumpets and a shout. “Here we have Nathaniel II, king of Brighton Kingdom!”

The
Hallelujah Chorus
exploded in the abbey. In Susanna. Glorious!

From in the back, the sanctuary’s gilded doors swung open, flooding the nave with light. The archbishop led King Nathaniel, his mum, and his brother through the cheering and shouting down the long aisle and into the waiting day.

“God save King Nathaniel and all his descendants.”

Susanna mentally and emotionally clung to every moment, savoring every detail, scribbling, painting, breathing in the textures, sights, and sounds.

She whirled around to Avery. “Are you taking pictures?”

She flung her arm around Susanna’s shoulders and turned her phone camera on the two of them. “We’re at Nate’s coronation. Woo-hoo!”

See, Avery was a low moon on a steaming Georgia night. She just existed in every moment, free from constraint.

The guests made their way out of the abbey, laughing and chatting, making celebration plans for the rest of the day.

Susanna had hoped Nate would give her a visual as he left, but he remained focused, looking ahead.

All for the best. Really. She had to reckon with truth. There was nowhere to go from here but sightseeing with Avery and then home.

She’d also learned of another coronation schedule color code today—thanks to Rollins. Purple, to which she was not invited. A private luncheon followed by an evening performance by the Brighton Royal Symphony.

Susanna wiped away a small kiss of disappointment. It was fine. She and Avery had gobs of plans. A tour of Cathedral City and at least three of the green-labeled coronation street parties with food and live bands, which looked amazing.

One featured a singer Avery adored. Christina Jensen.

Down the aisle, Susanna and Avery finally pushed into the crisp Brighton sunshine. Prince Colin shoved away from the abbey wall where he’d been waiting. His smile flashed the moment he saw Avery.