~Maxon's P.O.V.~
A year had passed since my marriage to America, and Illéa was prospering. The castes were finally almost dissolved. The population was preparing for the celebration of our anniversary, which was taking place this evening.
Tightening my tie, I felt America's arms slip around my chest in a backward hug. I turned so I could return the embrace, holding her tightly to me.
"Happy anniversary, my dear," I mumbled with a grin. After three years, the inside joke was still running. She poked me in the gut and looked up at me.
"Your Royal Husbandness, I'm afraid you've mistaken my name," she replied in a regal voice. I loved how much she'd grown into being queen. She was still stubborn and hesitant, but she had learned in the past year how to control her emotions. And it made her more beautiful, if that were ever possible.
"Well then, Your Majesty, please accept my deepest apologies," I said with an exaggerated bow. She giggled.
"I shall have to get back to you on whether or not your apology is accepted." Her face was turning red as she tried to hold back her laughter, but we both started laughing when I brushed the ticklish spot on her neck. When we finally calmed down, I spoke again.
"Maybe Your Majesty's mind would be made up if I did this…" Leaning down, I kissed my beautiful wife, amazed at the perfection that was the past year.
And the door opened. Pulling away, America turned to face the intruder.
"Marlee, you really must fix your timing. It's terrible."
"Sorry, America," she chuckled. "But you have to get ready. See, Maxon's all ready. But you, still in the same gown I left you in, with only half an hour now to get something done with that hair."
America sighed. "Fine. Go call in my maids." As Marlee left, America faced me again. With a peck on the cheek, she walked off toward her suite, calling out, "Apology accepted."