She stared at herself in the mirror, at the yards and yards of beaded silk. The design for the dress had come from a modified version of an eighteenth-century ball gown. The infamous Quentin had flown out himself to fit Mia. He’d directed the Marcelli women on the beading, which had taken months. Now it was finished and she was about to marry Rafael.

She smiled at the thought. He truly had changed. He was a good, caring father and supportive of her. He had moved into the house and taken care of Danny while she’d crammed for finals, and he had been patient as she had then tried to learn a thousand years of Calandrian history in just two months.

Her father walked into the bride’s room. “It’s time,” he said.

The women collected their bouquets and hurried out. Mia’s mother lingered.

“My baby is getting married,” she whispered as she kissed Mia’s cheek.

“Don’t make me cry,” Mia pleaded. “We don’t have time to redo my makeup.”

“Or mine.” Her mother lowered Mia’s veil over her face. “I’m glad you’re happy. That’s all I ever wanted.”

Her father grinned. “Sure. We don’t actually care about being related to royalty. Although I’ve been thinking. Now we have the perfect in for the European market.”

His wife slapped his arm. “You will not discuss exporting Marcelli wines during the reception. Do you understand me?”

Marco grinned again.

Then Mia was alone with her father. He squeezed her hand. “You can still get out of this if you want.”

She laughed. “Not even on a bet. I love him, Daddy.”

“I’ve offered the same escape to each of my girls and you have all refused. I guess that means you’re really in love.”

“I am.”

“You put him through the wringer. I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it, but he came through.”

“He did. He loves Danny and me.”

“He’s a good man,” her father said. “I like that I can say that about all my sons-in-law. Come on, Mia. It’s time.”

They walked down the wide staircase and through the arched doors that led to the wide expanse of lawn. She could hear the royal Calandrian orchestra playing and smell the thousands of flowers arranged for the event. Then she and her father turned and she could see the dais where the ceremony would take place, the beautiful arch, and a seemingly endless sea of guests.

“Katie outdid herself,” her father murmured.

Mia nodded in agreement. Her sister had worked with the Calandrian protocol officer to pull off a massive wedding in far too short a time. Everything looked perfect.

“I’m ready, Mommy,” Danny said as he stepped in front of her. He held a pillow with two gold bands clipped in place.

“You look very handsome,” she told him.

“I look like Daddy.” He grinned and tugged at his miniature bow tie.

“All right, kids,” Katie said, motioning Danny to join his cousins. “Let’s go. Just like we practiced.”

Mia watched her sisters’ children begin the long walk down the aisle to where Amber, Darcy, and Kelly waited. The girls scattered rose petals. Brenna and Francesca stepped up next.

“Thanks for the great dresses,” Brenna said with a grin.

“Thank Quentin,” Mia told her.

The twins started their walk.

Katie squeezed Mia’s arm. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Mia swallowed to hold back tears. “You did an amazing job with the wedding.”

“I loved it. And there isn’t a single daisy anywhere.”

Mia laughed.

Katie turned to face the arch, then began her walk. Mia slipped her hand into the crook of her father’s arm.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, her gaze drawn to the handsome man waiting for her. Her eyes locked with Rafael’s and she felt the warmth of his love surround her.

A handsome prince. Who would have thought it would ever come to this?

The music changed to the traditional wedding march. The guests rose and turned toward her and her father. He covered her hand with his and squeezed her fingers. Then they stepped onto the petal-covered path.

Once again, she found Rafael and let him draw her in. Everything about this moment felt right-as if she’d finally found her destiny. Today she would be his wife, and Calandria’s new princess. In time, she would be queen.

Today Calandria…tomorrow the world.

SUSAN MALLERY

***
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