Maximilian stood at the altar with his hands clasped so tightly together that his knuckles had turned pale.
Beside him, Sebastian, his best man, noticed and nudged him with a teasing smile.
"Afraid she'll run away?"
Maximilian shook his head. "I'm excited," he admitted. "But nervous."
He hadn't expected to feel this nervous.
In his previous life, even when he had been forced to take the mantle of King after his brother's sudden death, he had never felt anything quite like this.
It wasn't fear. It was something else. Something he couldn't put into words.
He glanced toward the groom's side of the church.
His mother was sitting there, smiling proudly at him. Amelia, his sister, sat beside her, with Timothy Rathbourne on her other side. Even from a distance, Maximilian noticed Timothy gently cooing to baby Charlotte, who seemed increasingly irritated by the crowd and perhaps overwhelmed by the heavy scent of flowers.
Maximilian looked around the church again.
