Enormous projection screens had been set up at major squares and thoroughfares, to air the live wedding coverage. Discordant music blared from various directions: pop songs from portable speakers, a piano bar playing the wedding march. Now and again groups of friends spontaneously burst into the national anthem. Those who were lucky enough to live along the parade route were hosting parties on their balconies, everyone already jostling along the railings in search of the best view. The city was at max capacity: hotels fully booked, friends hosting friends as people poured in from all over the country—all over the world, really—to celebrate Beatrice and Teddy.

Each storefront they passed seemed full of more wedding merchandise than the last. Nina saw foil balloons, tote bags, Christmas ornaments, puzzles, jewelry. Not to mention dozens of “official” cherry cake mixes and cherry brandies. She wondered how much money the government was making off all this.

“Bottled water, two dollars; beer, one dollar,” shouted a guy who was walking through the street, wheeling a cooler behind him. When Nina met his gaze, he grinned and lifted the cooler’s top. Beneath a jumbled assortment of beer cans were a few plastic bottles of zinfandel rosé, labeled with a sticker of Beatrice’s face that he’d definitely made on his home printer.

Nina laughed. This was exactly why she’d wanted to come out here—to see the aspects of the wedding celebration that were decidedly not palace-approved.

She held tight to Ethan’s hand as they wove through the crowds, keeping well away from the media crews. Reporters were already stationed in the streets, speaking rapidly into their microphones as they filmed pre-ceremony footage. Nina had jammed a baseball cap low over her head, and in the crowds she doubted anyone would recognize her as Prince Jefferson’s erstwhile girlfriend. But she wasn’t in the mood to answer questions about Ethan. Or about Jeff and Daphne.

She’d seen that Jeff had officially asked Daphne to the wedding. It was impossible to avoid the internet’s breathless speculation about whether they were getting back together. Earlier this year, that kind of news would’ve been painful to hear—but now Nina didn’t especially care.

There was nothing Daphne could do to hurt her anymore.

As she and Ethan jostled through the crowds, Nina found herself marveling at the scale of it all. There were so many people out here—young and old, in pairs or in massive groups—and every last one of them was smiling. Thousands of strangers, drawn together by the wedding of two people they would probably never meet.

“Beatrice seems more popular than she was at the start of this year,” she observed.

Ethan laughed. “Everyone loves an excuse for a national holiday.”

“You know what I mean. People are getting used to the idea of change.” She tugged at Ethan’s arm, pulling him around a pair of women in hot pink sashes that said QUEEN BEE. “They’re starting to like having a young queen. It makes the country feel youthful and energized.”

“Some of that’s because of Sam and Marshall, too,” Ethan reminded her.

Nina had been thrilled to find out that Sam and Marshall were together for real now, and not just for show. She didn’t know Marshall that well, but she knew one thing for certain: he didn’t try to make Samantha into someone she wasn’t. Which made him leagues better than everyone else in Sam’s life—including, at times, her own family.

They crossed the intersection into Chilton Square. A few soldiers stood at attention, their helmets topped with ceremonial plumes. Nina smiled when she saw that someone had placed a plastic bachelorette tiara atop the statue of Artemis at the fountain’s center. Its veil fell over the goddess’s features, fluttering a little in the wind.

She thought of what her parents had said last week, when she’d gone to ask their advice. She’d explained everything—her situation with Ethan, her painful conversation with Jeff, Ethan’s suggestion that they attend the royal wedding together—and her mom had reached for her hand with a sigh. “Oh, sweetheart. Relationships are never simple.”

“You and Ethan have both occupied a very strange and specific position near the royal family,” her mamá had agreed. “But…you shouldn’t be drawn to Ethan simply because you understand each other’s backgrounds. There’s so much more to both of you. And if you think no one else could relate, you’re doing the rest of the world a disservice.”

Nina hesitated. She thought of all the things she loved about Ethan: his razor-sharp wit, his unexpected softness. The way everything felt more vibrant simply when she was with him.

“No,” she decided. “It’s more than that.”

Isabella shifted closer on the couch. “Then there’s really only one thing to ask yourself. Is Ethan worth it, or not?”

Was he worth it?

The press would paint Nina as even more of a villain this time. She was the woman who’d moved on from the prince to his best friend. The tabloids would probably claim that she was dating Ethan simply out of spite, to punish Jeff for breaking up with her. The world had already resented her, and now it would despise her.

Nina couldn’t begin to imagine the nicknames the internet would give her, once those articles were published.

She remembered what her mom had said earlier this year: that Nina should rely on the people who really knew her to stay grounded. Ethan was one of those people now. At some point this year she’d come to lean on him, and that was worth fighting for.

He drew to a halt in the sea of people and stared down at her, evidently sensing the direction of her thoughts. “We don’t have to do this, if you aren’t ready,” he said softly.

“No.” She shook her head, causing her ponytail to slip loose. “I want to go to this wedding with you. Whatever happens, you’re worth it.”

“I’m worth it?” he said roughly. “Nina, I’m not—I don’t deserve you.”

“It’s not about deserving, Ethan. This isn’t a sports game. We don’t keep tallies of wins and losses. We’re together, and I’m ready for everyone to know it.”

Relief blossomed on his features, and he grabbed Nina beneath the arms, spinning her around in a ballroom dancing move. When he set her down again, his eyes were bright. “I’m so glad that I met you.”

“You met me a long time ago,” she felt the need to point out.

“But I didn’t know you back then. I thought you were stuck-up and annoying, and impossible to talk to—”

“Is there a compliment in here?”

“—and my reasons for hanging out with you, earlier this year, were totally messed up—”

What did he mean by that? Was he talking about their journalism class?

Ethan caught her hands in his own. “What I’m trying to say is that I was wrong about you. I had no idea…” He paused, as if weighing his next words carefully. “I had no idea, Nina Gonzalez, that I would end up being totally crazy about you.”

Nina swallowed. “I’m falling for you, too.”

Ethan laced his hands over her shoulders, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. A few bystanders, seeing them kiss, let out low whoops of approval. Nina smiled against his mouth, leaning further into the kiss—because now, for a little while longer, it didn’t really matter.

A low, droning noise echoed through the air. They both looked up, to see a formation of military planes flying overhead in an elaborate zigzag formation. The aircraft seemed awfully low to Nina.

“Is this some sort of salute?” she started to ask, as the planes swooped still lower—and their cargo hatches flipped open. A bright floral rain fell from the sky: pink and white roses, hydrangeas, and of course cherry blossoms.

The crowds seemed to shout out in a single voice as the flowers fell on their heads, making it momentarily look like the capital had dissolved into swirling pink-and-white waves.

Laughing, Ethan drew a stray petal from Nina’s hair. “I think that’s our cue to get going.”

* * *

It was a bit disorienting, stepping from the vibrant chaos of the streets into the palace’s cool, beeswax-scented calm. Nina had hastily changed out of her shorts and into a gown, which she’d bought online last month; after the way her last dress had been mysteriously “canceled,” she no longer trusted the boutiques in the capital. The gown was beautiful, its lavender silk so pale that it almost looked silver, with a gathered neckline that showed off Nina’s bare shoulders. She’d tucked back her curls with bobby pins, but anyone who stood close would smell the sunshine on her hair.

In the crowds of people making their way through the entrance hall, Nina caught sight of Marshall Davis, dressed in a crisp tuxedo and accompanied by a couple who must be his parents. His grandfather, the current Duke of Orange—wearing the scarlet robes of his position, and a ducal coronet, made of gold with eight gleaming prongs—walked alongside them.

To her own surprise, Nina called out Marshall’s name. He looked up, startled, then muttered something to his parents and started toward her.

“Nina. Hey.” Marshall spoke warily, as if he wasn’t sure what she wanted with him; and really, Nina didn’t know either. She drew to one side of the crowds, near a massive porcelain vase.

“I just…I wanted to see how you’re holding up,” she ventured.