them, Edvin had already spent a year loving him, living in the palace, getting used to the constant press attention, and studying up on protocol.
He had this.
He was ready for this.
It was his wedding day, and Leo was going to be his husband.
He took another one of those mindfulness breaths and blotted at his forehead as advised, then handed the handkerchief back to Gerard and ran his hands down his sleek, crumb-free lapels, twisting a little to admire the subtly rose-patterned tuxedo he was about to be married in. He sort of looked fantastic, actually… and more importantly, he was finally about to marry the man he adored.
“Okay,” he said, meaning it for real this time as a smile bloomed across his face, the words flowing off his tongue like silk. “I’m ready.”
Ready to say I do.
Ready for Leo to be his husband.
Ready to stand up next to his prince and let the whole world see how much Edvin loved him.
“Good,” Linnea said, giving his shoulders a squeeze. “Because Gerard is right, you do look fabulous, Leo is head over heels for you, and—” she brushed her fingers over the clusters of Darling roses woven into her hair, the ones that matched Edvin’s and Oliver’s boutonnieres, and their sisters’ corsages, too, “—you’ve got us, and all Leo’s hot brothers, to cheer you on. You know, your family.”
“Oh… shizzle,” Edvin said, his eyes immediately starting to tear up again. “D-D-Don’t make me cry, Linnie.”
Well, too late, but that was okay. She was right. It was the happiest day of Edvin’s life, and the Darling roses—tiny, exuberant, and tight-knit, sweet-smelling red blossoms with white hearts that had been bred, chosen, and named by the palace’s Commander of Roses, a.k.a. his soon-to-be-brother-in-law Wren, to represent the royal union of Leo and Edvin’s marriage—were the perfect reminder that the wedding wasn’t just about the overwhelming pomp and ceremony that the country was clamoring to see, it was about sharing his and Leo’s happiness with the people they loved and who loved them in return. It was about becoming a part of Leo’s family, and of Leo becoming a part of his.
And for that? Edvin was definitely, completely, one thousand percent, always and forever, ready.
…and a good thing, too, because a moment later, an attendant popped into the dressing room and told them that it was time for the ceremony to start.
Edvin’s pulse was racing faster than a hummingbird’s wings, but this time, the flutters he was filled with had nothing at all to do with nerves. Each and every one of the hundred and seventy-two steps it had taken to walk down the aisle from the chapel’s entrance to the grand altar—the same one that the van Rosavia family had been saying their matrimonial vows in front of for the last five hundred years—had made him feel like he was floating, and the heady scent of the roses that spilled over the end of the pews—combined with the beautiful colors dancing across the stately marble floor as sunlight filtered through the gorgeous stained glass windows that lined the upper reaches of the choir—transformed the refined grandeur of the palace chapel into something that lifted his heart and felt magical.
Or maybe… maybe the magic was simply loving Leo.
“You’re smiling, darling,” Leo whispered as they turned to face each other in front of the officiant, the warm brown eyes that Edvin could happily drown in sparkling so brightly that Leo looked lit up from within.
And it was true. Of course Edvin was smiling. All those flutters inside him were making it impossible not to. He was smiling with body, heart, and soul, because there was nowhere he’d rather be, and no one he’d rather share his life with than the prince, the man, he was about to pledge himself to.
“It looks beautiful on you,” Leo murmured even more quietly, earning an indulgent smile from the officiant who’d just opened her mouth to begin but then paused for an extra beat, as if to make sure that the prince so well known for bucking tradition was actually going to stay quiet long enough for her to do so.
Edvin made a valiant effort to stifle the giddy, joyful giggles that were rising up in his chest like Zasfer bubbles, and even though he managed to keep them from escaping, his original intentions—to remember all his cues in the ceremony and be sure to act dignified for posterity (and all the cameras, of course)—went up in smoke.
He instinctively reached