Arranged

a royal romance 

by Laurie Ingram Sibley

Church bells pealed as Retta’s horse pulled the bridal cart down the streets of Crantinburg. Her subjects lined both sides of the lane, all cheering and waving to their queen. Retta nodded back, as was expected, but she couldn’t bring herself to smile. 

At the end of this road, the man she’d been betrothed to since she was seven years old waited for her with the bishop and a wedding ring. At the end of this road, she would meet him for the very first time.

A betrothal arranged by their parents had seemed endlessly romantic for the past eleven years, but now that she was actually on her way to marry the king of Dalterra and unite their two kingdoms, the idea seemed ridiculous, antiquated, and downright terrifying. 

Why hadn’t she bucked tradition and insisted on meeting him? On a courtship period? On a please-don’t-make-me-do-this clause?

Her horse came to a stop and the attendant reached to help her out of the bridal cart. Retta gathered her voluminous skirts and placed her hand in his. Five small pages rushed to grab her long train and carry it into the church.

The pipe organ pounded out the processional as measured steps brought her steadily down the long aisle and closer to her intended.

At last, she stood before the man who would become her husband. He was taller than she’d imagined, his broad shoulders covered by epaulets. She peeked at him through the layers of her white veil. His nose was straight, his jaw strong. Handsome, yet stoic. 

The bishop paused his monologue, and her betrothed took a deep breath and grasped the edges of her veil. He lifted it back over her head, revealing her face for the first time. Something like relief flashed across his eyes and the corners of his mouth almost lifted. So he thought she was pretty, then. Retta felt her own sense of relief.

They made their vows, his voice a rich baritone, hers little more than a whisper. Promises to a stranger, forever unto death. Expectant shivers raced from her finger to her heart as he slid the gold wedding band onto her finger. When it was her turn, the ring caught on his knuckle, and he covered her fingers with his and helped shove it into place.

“Thanks,” she whispered, and he winked the eye on the side of his face that the crowded church hall couldn’t see. For an instant, it was just the two of them. Partners, united against the world—that’s what she’d prayed for.

It was time for the vows of monarchy as they joined their two smaller kingdoms into one. The two-becoming-one of marriage reflected on a geo-political level. But the people were pleased and cheered as they signed the royal document and knelt for the sacred vows.

Their names and titles echoed throughout the church. Their royal highnesses, King Andreus and Queen Moretta of Cranterra.

Then the bishop gestured for them to turn and face one another again. This was it—the first kiss with a man she hadn’t even had the luxury of a conversation with yet. 

Carefully, as though her chin was made of spun glass, Andreus placed one hand on either side of her face. “Okay?” he asked, his voice barely audible. 

Retta nodded and his head dipped lower. He brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth. “Okay?” he asked again.

Oh, how she longed for a real marriage, with true affection between them. The word popped out before she thought. “More.”

She felt his smile as he pressed his lips to hers, fully, unhurried, a gentle giving and taking.

The flock of butterflies in her belly took flight. A bubble of hope rose in her chest. 

When he drew away, it was only to lock eyes with her. That smile still lingered and she knew it matched her own.       

A first kiss with a stranger, but a promise of more to come with a husband.

* * *

Retta’s gnarled fingers stroked her granddaughter’s hair. “That was sixty-three marvelous years ago. Since then, we’ve raised children and grandchildren, ruled this great country together, overcome obstacles, and been each other’s champion through it all.”

Fanita raised her tearstained face to meet Retta’s eyes. “So you think an arranged marriage can work out, even if we don’t love each other?”

“Oh, sweetness. You just don’t love each other yet.”