Page 28 of The Echelon (Spy Girl 7)
About halfway down the parade route, I spot the owner of the Punk Rocker. She’s waving a banner, wearing a Cure band T-shirt, and had the tips of her purple hair dyed red.
“Stop the car!” I say, causing The Priest to spring into action, covering me with his body. “What are you doing?” I say with a laugh. “I just want to acknowledge someone.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says. “It could be a trap.”
“Stop anyway,” I tell him.
When the car stops, the crowd yells out my name.
I yell to the shop owner, “Miranda!”
She gets a shocked look on her face, and when I wave her over, The Priest hops out of the car and escorts her through the barrier.
“I guess, sometimes, young love does work out, even when the real world interferes,” Miranda says with a grin.
“That it does. I don’t suppose you got invited to the wedding?”
“Me?” She laughs. “Of course not.”
“Lorenzo surprised me with the wedding today, so I didn’t have a say on the guest list. But I’m going to rectify that now. Come with us.”
She looks down at herself. “Dressed like this?”
“I can’t think of anything else I would rather see you in,” I tell her. And I’m serious. “You make me feel like a piece of my mother is here with me.”
“While that is lovely and I would very much like to attend the wedding, particularly if this handsome man will be there,” she says, flirting with The Bartender, “I’m a proper English girl at heart. I absolutely can’t go dressed like this.”
The Bartender gives me a wry grin and says, “I’d be happy to make sure Miss Miranda is allowed entrance to the wedding. The wedding starts in”—he checks his watch—“thirty-seven minutes. Can you be there by then?”
“With bells on!” she yells out as she takes off. “And a hat!”
The parade continues its processional, and before I know it, we’re entering the palace grounds. A few blocks from the chapel, the car stops.
“This is where you’re supposed to get out,” Henri says.
“And walk down the cobblestone streets in these heels?” I ask. “Talk about treacherous.”
“You’re supposed to just stand here and wait,” he says cryptically.
“For what?”
But then I hear a whinny from behind me and turn back toward the palace gates where a man, dressed in a full suit of shining armor with Montrovian colors flailing on both the horse’s armament and the flag he carries, is riding in on a beautiful horse.
The horse gallops up to me and then comes to a halt.
“My fair maiden,” Lorenzo says, lifting the armored mask to reveal part of his face. “Will you have my hand in marriage?”
“You’re giving me the full fairy-tale treatment, aren’t you?” I grin.
“It’s what you requested when I rescued you from boredom with Daniel on my yacht,” he replies, jumping down off the horse.
“I love it,” I say, moving to touch the exposed sliver of skin on his face. “Will you be wearing this mask during the ceremony?”
“No, milady,” he says with a bow. “I am here on orders from His Highness, the king of Montrovia, to deliver a gift to you on this most splendiferous of occasions.”
He holds out a box.
A box I’ve seen before.
A box that once held a pair of shoes that looked like glass slippers. Shoes that were made of Swarovski crystals cut to look like diamonds and set on a base more comfortable for dancing in than glass.
Upon seeing my confusion, he explains, “They were found just outside the rose garden.”
“I thought they were lost forever. I ditched them, so I could run after the kidnapper’s van.”
“I know you did. That’s why I’d like you to wear them today. It is because of you that I am now living a most wondrous life with the woman I love.”
“Clearly, I had an ulterior motive regardless of my mission,” I tease as I lean against the car I came here in and slip off the heels I’m wearing.
He bends down, the metal creaking around his knees, and puts the glass-looking slippers on my feet.
“Perfect,” he says, standing up. “Now, let my eyes feast on the beauty that is you.”
“Do you like the dress?”
“Like is an understatement, my darling,” he says, circling me. “I see why you were so drawn to it. Why you stopped in the middle of an international crisis to purchase it. It is the most stunning creation I have ever seen. Just like you are the most incredible creature I have ever laid eyes on.”
“Did you see the names I added to the veil?” I ask, tears filling my eyes just like they did when I put it on.
He moves closer, examining the pale pastel threads that were hand-embroidered in what appear to be striations from afar, but up close, you can see that the stripes spell out the names of those three hundred and eighteen souls who died from the biological attack on the opening ceremonies before I was able to secure the antidote. The most prominent names are First Lady Amanda Spear and Bella Smith. Alongside them are the others who were senselessly killed by The Echelon: my mother, Charlotte Cassleberry; Chauncey’s mother, Lara Durand; Lorenzo’s uncle, Marcelo Vallenta; President John F. “Jack” Hillford; scientist Dr. Nelson Andersen; and, of course, King Giovanni Vallenta.
“You have my father’s name on here,” he says, his fingers gliding over it, his face looking incredibly touched by the gesture.
“Of course. He was killed by The Echelon, too. Just as you could have been.”
He wipes tears from his eyes and then says, “I’m so very glad you didn’t allow that to happen.”
“Me, too.” I lean up and kiss the metal covering his cheek. “I didn’t know we would get married so soon, but I called the designer after our night in the turret and suggested the additions. I wanted them all to be remembered. To be here with us today.”
“They are, my love,” he says. “And we will showcase the veil at my father’s memorial in their honor.” He takes my hand in his and kisses it. “I regret that I must bid you adieu now, my fair lady, for I have a wedding to attend.”
“As a matter of fact, so do I.”
After he rides off, I turn around and pick up the hem of the veil. Hidden at the very bottom is the name Anna as well as the letters of the alphabet, minus the S and the X. A way to honor Anna, the girl who was killed while I was locked in a cage in the basement of The Moneyman’s home, and to remember the students and instructors from Blackwood Academy.
A few minutes later, I’m making my way to the entrance off the church, recalling the conversation Lorenzo’s mother and I had just the other day about wedding tradition in Montrovia and realizing
now why we had it.
I know that the groom will be standing at the altar with his best man, who I am assuming is Kresten, the crown prince of Denmark. And I know that my wedding party will consist of ten children ranging from ages two to eight, chosen from an assortment of prominent Montrovian family friends.
The children are waiting outside and look adorable—the girls in pastel floral silk dresses and the boys in navy cotton slacks, starched white shirts with Peter Pan collars trimmed in navy piping, and matching floral cummerbunds.
“Huntley!” Chauncey yells out the second he sees me. “I’m going to be in your wedding! My daddy and I moved here, and we’re going to see each other all the time!”
He rushes toward me, and I scoop him up into my arms, giving him a hug.
“I’m so happy that you are. I’ve missed you terribly.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” he says, chattering on, “but I got to meet real superheroes, and that was really fun. And I love your house. I learned to bowl and shoot baskets and got to see my daddy and eat meatloaf. And guess what!”
“What?”
“My nanny is moving here, too. I think Daddy fancies her.” He snickers. “Maybe they will get married.”
“What do you think about my marrying Lorenzo?”
He looks down, little tears filling his big eyes.
“Does it make you sad?”
“No,” he says, sticking his bottom lip out. “It makes me happy. Can I come to the palace for Pamcakes tomorrow morning?”
“Lorenzo and I will be on our honeymoon, but we’ll be sure to have his cook in London come here soon, so we can all have them together.”
“Yay!” he says as I set him back down.
“It’s time for the children to enter the church,” the wedding planner says, leading them inside and allowing Blake, Ares, and my brother to join me outside.
“You look beautiful,” Blake says, his eyes welling up with tears.
“Are you all going to walk me down the aisle?” I ask happily.
