Page 27 of The Echelon (Spy Girl 7)
“Yes, we do,” Lizzie says. “Because, after today, all will be right in our worlds.”
“My mother would have loved to come,” Daniel says softly. “But, since she couldn’t, Grandma Spear decided she needed to be here in her place.”
“Are you serious?”
“He’s serious,” Grandma Spear says, making a grand entrance. “When a young woman gets married, it’s very important a wise old woman is present—you know, in case she has questions regarding her first night as man and wife.”
Daniel and Lizzie stifle giggles, and I laugh through my tears.
“All right,” Blair says with a clap, “we’ve got to get Huntley ready. Ladies, you are welcome to join us.”
“What about me?” Daniel asks.
“We suggest that you join Lorenzo in his quarters,” Grandmother Spear says. “We can’t have a fox in the henhouse.”
As soon as Daniel exits the room, Lorenzo’s mother snaps a finger, causing a team of waiters to appear, handing out flutes of champagne.
“I’d like to make a toast to my future daughter-in-law,” the queen says, raising her glass in the air. “To Huntley. May the sun shine upon your days. May the stars brighten your nights. May the ocean breeze caress you kindly. And may the sea match the depths of your love.”
After the toast, a door at the back of the queen’s study is opened, revealing a massive dressing room. In the center of it is my dress in all its wondrous glory.
“Oh my gosh, Huntley,” Allie says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful dress.” She slings her arm through my elbow as we circle it together. “Look at all those flowers running down the skirt and spilling onto the train. And don’t even get me started on all the crystals. Although the top is surprisingly sheer and slightly risqué.”
“I’m glad you like it,” I say with a huge grin on my face.
“Like it?” Blair says, “Huntley, that dress is going to make history today. It really hasn’t sunk in yet, has it?”
“Yes, it has. I can’t wait to marry Lorenzo.”
“I’m talking about the fact that you are marrying the king of one of the wealthiest countries in the world,” Blair explains. “Today is the day you will officially become a fashion icon. Your wedding is going to be televised to millions.”
“More like billions,” Grandma Spears corrects.
“Which is something you should remember,” Lorenzo’s mother says. “Everyone is going to have their opinion on your dress. Some will say it is too much. Others will think it’s not enough. Regardless of what people say, this dress will set trends in the bridal industry. It will be one of the most photographed dresses in history. This dress is a combination of untraditional—with its illusion neckline, crystal and rose trimmings—and traditional—with its full sweeping skirt. In recent royal weddings, the trend has favored simplicity. And, while that might have suited the brides, it disappointed those who dream of marrying the handsome prince in an incredible fairy-tale dress. You, my darling, will not disappoint.”
“That is why we mustn’t delay any longer,” the wedding planner says. “Huntley, it’s time to get you ready.”
My hair is done up in a simple and regal chignon with a few tendrils pulled out to frame my face. My makeup features a smoky eye, balanced by soft peach cheeks and lips.
The queen snaps her fingers, and a guard from the royal vault brings in the Arcadian suite of jewels. The tiara is taken out of its velvet box and placed atop my head. The rest to be added after I get dressed.
I try not to cry as I remember Lorenzo dragging me into the vault on the night he proposed. I know that I dreamed of this, but it is even more than I imagined.
Probably because, at that moment, I had no idea what was yet to come. The dire situation Lorenzo and Montrovia would be in. The fact that he would do something so selfless for his country, giving himself the vaccine before allowing his people to take it.
Putting this crown on now means so much more than it would have then.
It means everything I’ve been through was worth it. Every cut and bruise, every dark and scary moment, every time I doubted myself, and even when I doubted Lorenzo’s love.
All. So. Worth. It.
As I put on my dream dress, I truly wonder how in the world an orphaned spy girl from America ended up here.
In this place.
In this dream.
With this incredible love.
“Maybe, someday, you will be a princess,” my mother said as we walked out onto the balcony.
“That sounds boring,” I replied.
“Are you telling me you wouldn’t like to live in a castle like this?”
I glanced around. “It is very beautiful.”
“Oh, look!” our tour guide said excitedly from our perch. “There’s Prince Lorenzo and Her Royal Highness down there in the rose garden.”
“Prince Lorenzo!” my mother yelled out, waving like a lunatic and causing me to cringe.
The prince heard her shouts and turned toward the sound of his name.
When he did, our eyes met, and we held our gaze. I couldn’t take my eyes off him; he was so beautiful. Even at this distance, I could tell there was warmth and kindness in his eyes. I was rooted in my spot, too mesmerized to be embarrassed. After a few seconds, he broke our connection, waved to our group, and then continued with his mother into an area of the garden that was hidden from our view.
I never imagined I would see Lorenzo again, but the universe apparently had other plans.
I’m not going to question them.
And I know that would have made my mother very happy.
Once the tiara is firmly on my head, I’m helped into my dress. The way I look makes me want to sing with joy, but when they bring in the veil, I can’t help but cry.
This veil means everything.
As I sit in the parade car, waiting for the okay to start the processional, I slip back into ingrained habits, thinking about what I would do if tasked with the role of protecting myself. There is no way I’d allow myself to ride in a convertible down the main street of the capital city.
It would be a tactical nightmare.
You’d have to have snipers on the rooftops—which there are—drones overhead—yep, those, too—a large security detail both in uniform and plain clothes—out in full force—as well as help from the military and local authorities. I know that they probably couldn’t stop a well-placed bullet shot by a trained assassin, but when two men I explicitly trust come to stand on either side of the car, I stop thinking.
“We are in charge of the plan to protect you,” The Priest says to me. “It helps to have the element of surprise on our side, but the car has been personally checked by me. We have snipers—”
“On the roofs,” I say. “I already saw them. Thank you.”
“No, actually, thank you, Huntley,” he says, taking my hand and squeezing it. “My son and I owe you our lives. Did Lorenzo tell you that he has offered us asylum?”
“And are you going to accept it?”
“Not that I have much choice.” He chuckles but then looks down, overcome with emotion. “My son loves you both. Huntley, the way you took him in. Cared for him. After what I did to your mother.”
“Does that mean Chauncey is here?”
“Oh, yes. He was asked to be one of the children in your wedding party. But don’t tell him I told you. He is very excited to surprise you at the church.”
“He’s an incredible child. So smart. And that pout, I can’t even.”
“Tell me about it. Did I mention that I’m also quite enamored with his nanny?”
“What? Really?” I screech. “Does she like you back?”
“I think so. She’s put in notice at work, and she will be joining us here in Montrovia in a few weeks. Lorenzo has hired us as part-time security consultants.”
I turn to The Bartender. “Us? As in both of you?”
“Yes, he did,” The Bartender says. “Same deal. Only
this time, I’m not opening a bar. I’ll be spending my free time fishing.”
“That’s incredible.”
“It’s because Lorenzo is so incredibly in love with you,” The Priest says, giving me a peck on the cheek. “You are very blessed in that regard.”
“Are you ready for this?” The Bartender asks.
I give him a nod, so he speaks into his communications device, officially commencing the start of the parade.
Once we’re moving, I put my training to the back of my mind and focus solely on the fact that the sidewalks and side streets are packed with citizens here to see me. Parade watchers are blowing kisses, tossing roses, and in true Montrovian fashion, raising flutes of bubbly in my honor.
A wide smile is plastered across my face as I try to wave and make eye contact with each and every one of them because I want them to know how grateful I am to be here.
How grateful I am that I succeeded in my mission.
And knowing that some crazy combination of fate, training, and love brought me to this place in time.
I’m not sure what my future holds, but I know that these people, their country, and their king have all woven themselves into places in my heart, and it will be an honor to continue to serve them.
