Chapter 18

You Say Goodbye, and I Say Hello

The day the preceded Ryan's wedding was an oddly blissful one. He spoke with his country's diplomats, and made arrangements to go on his very own goodwill tour, taking him to Africa and Asia. The prospect thrilled him, but by sunset, he knew the time had come to tell Darcy of his plan. He didn't know how she would react, but he knew that on some level she would be glad to hear it.

He sat in their hotel suite and waited for her to return from one last dress fitting. He knew for a fact that Keith was still at the church, so it was with a certain calm that he sat and waited, something he had not felt in some time. The minutes ticked by, and his mind inevitably wandered to Susanna. Would she come? She had told him once that she hated weddings, and besides, she hadn't even recognized him when he went to visit her. Perhaps she would simply forget to come, which would be fine by him. He still wasn't sure how he could say his vows with her watching from just a few feet away. He felt a sudden thrill at the farfetched image of her leaping from her seat to stop the wedding. He chuckled; it would not have been so farfetched two weeks ago, when she was still fiery and passionate, but now she was little more than a workaholic zombie. He sighed and looked at the clock again… where was Darcy?

Just then the door opened, and Darcy came bustling in, looking breathless yet excited. She carried a slim box which Ryan recognized on sight, but he allowed her to hop over, give him a swift kiss, and then smile happily.

"Look what your mother gave me!" she cried.

She opened the box, and flipped back the velvet cover inside to reveal a strand of small, sparkling diamonds. He forced himself to smile.

"She says it's a tradition, that if the bride sleeps with the necklace under her pillow, it's good luck!" she told him.

"Yes, I have heard the story," Ryan said shortly, but then put his hands on her elbows and guided her to a chair. He took the box from her, closed it, and set it aside.

"I must talk to you," he began.

Her eyes suddenly darkened. He knew that in the excitement of the wedding, she had completely forgotten just who she was marrying. But she bit her lip and tried not to look anxious.

"About what?" she asked.

"Since I am the younger prince, I will not inherit the throne, nor will I join the army… mostly because we don't have one," he added with a chortle. Her tension seemed to ease; the conversation was going somewhere other than what she must have thought.

"But I want to do something useful," he went on. "I know it's soon, but I'm leaving in five days for a goodwill tour to Africa and Asia. It's the least I can do."

She looked thoroughly startled. "For how long?" she asked.

"Eight weeks," he answered, watching her reaction carefully.

"Eight!? But… we're getting married tomorrow," she said angrily. "Why would you do this now?"

"Don't you know?" he asked softly. His eyes gave everything away, and the second she looked at his face, she realized he knew, that he had known all along. She slumped in the chair, a tear threatening to fall. But she took a deep breath, steadied herself, and seemingly pretended she hadn't heard.

"Where shall I live, then?" she said.

"It's your choice… you can move to Telera, if you wish. Or you can return to New York… you can have any apartment you like, I'll pay for everything."

She sighed heavily. "But what will I do?"

"You can return to work, if you like. Miss Bennet is president now, you could ask her for a job. Or if you live in Telera, you could tour the country. Or you could travel, all over Europe." He watched her think about her options. The shock of his announcement seemed to be fading, replaced by the excitement of the opportunities that lay before her. She managed to smile.

"I'll have to think it over," she said, standing. She then hugged him. "You're doing a wonderful thing," she said, and then went to their bedroom.

He stood and went to the balcony. He pondered her reaction as he looked over the twinkling lights of the cool Parisian evening. He had already chosen to live with the consequences of this wedding, but he wondered if Darcy could bear to do the same.

Susanna, nervous, excited, and gloomy all at the same time, left for Paris two days before the wedding, but the jet lag wreaked havoc on her nerves, and she slept soundly in her hotel room until sunset the night before the wedding. She was abruptly awoken by a sharp knocking, and, mumbling incoherently, she staggered from the bed to the door.

"There you are, Susanna, I've been worried sick. I can't believe you didn't call on me the moment you arrived, I haven't heard from you in so long I thought perhaps you weren't coming, but that would be ludicrous, of course you had to come…"

Susanna rubbed her eyes as her mother ranted on. The duchess barged into her daughter's hotel room, followed by a hotel waiter pushing a cart full of food. This caught Susanna's attention immediately, and she wandered over to the couch and began to eat ferociously.

"Good heavens, Susanna, I didn't raise you to be an animal," her mother scolded, putting a napkin on Susanna's lap. After a few sips of strong espresso, Susanna finally woke up fully, and waited patiently for her mother's ravings to die down. They finally did, and the duchess sat on a chair across from Susanna and looked at her.

"What are you wearing?" Mrs. Bennet said after a moment.

Susanna looked down. She was wearing jeans, flip-flops, and a sweatshirt. She shrugged.

"I like to be comfortable on the plane," she said.

"Susanna, you told me your flight was coming in at ten o'clock yesterday evening!" her mother trilled.

"It did," she said simply.

"You've been asleep this whole time?" her mother asked incredulously.

Susanna nodded, ripping into a loaf of bread. "I haven't gotten much sleep lately."

"And why haven't you called?" Mrs. Bennet said with steely note in her voice.

"I was promoted, and it's been the death of me," Susanna explained.

"Promoted?" Mrs. Bennet repeated.

"Mmhmm," Susanna said through her pasta, "to president."

"President?" Mrs. Bennet repeated again. "Susanna, I had no idea."

"It's not as great as it sounds… if it hadn't been for Aunt Clarisse, I never would have made it here. I was so busy I almost forgot about it."

At first her mother looked shocked at the thought of forgetting a royal wedding, but then the look on her face turned to one Susanna had never seen before: pride.

"Well, it sounds very important," she said with a smile. "I'm very proud of you."

Susanna forgot about her quiche for a moment and joined her mother's eyes. That was something she had needed to hear her whole life.

"Thank you," she said.

Her mother clicked her tongue and rose. "I promised your Aunt Emily I'd join her for dinner. Finish your food, I'll see you in the morning." With a swift kiss to the forehead, Mrs. Bennet bid her daughter good-night and left the room.

Susanna did as she was told and swept the cart clean, forcing herself to focus on the food and not to let her thoughts wander. Her stomach full, she felt completely awake. Cursing time differences, she took a quick shower and got dressed for a night in Paris: a black silk camisole, forest green velvet jacket, jeans, and, of course, her favorite black Jimmy Choo pumps. Leaving her hair wavy, she left the hotel and stood for a moment to breathe in the cool Paris air. She was a short block from the Jardins des Tuileries, which were gorgeous under the red, orange, and purple of the setting sun. She walked past them for the time being, wanting to get to the Champs-Élysées before all the stores closed. Shopping would keep her mind off the things she had so far successfully avoided thinking about.

Two hours and six shopping bags later, Susanna was walking back to the hotel, her shopping high fading as she approached the Jardins once more. With the jet lag, her mother, the food, and then shopping, she had done all she could to repress the thoughts that had been fighting to get into her head all day, but now they finally won.

The wedding was tomorrow; it was practically a done deal. She sat down on a bench and rubbed her heels for a moment as the guilt washed over her. She knew full well that Darcy was cheating, and now she was going to have to sit and watch Ryan promise to spend his life with her.

But then again, she thought, perhaps he did know. He wasn't an idiot… not a complete one, anyway. After all, when had a prince ever cared about adultery? The guilt ebbed, but only to be replaced by something she rarely felt: jealousy. She looked at the beautiful city around her and felt near to crying. Much as she loathed to admit it, she wanted to be getting married in Paris, in the beautiful Sainte-Chapelle. She wanted to know that she was going to have someone by her side for the rest of her life. The thought of the past two weeks made her realize she was very tired. Or perhaps it was the thought of the lady at Estee Lauders' comment about the wrinkles appearing in Susanna's forehead. Either way, she decided, she was tired of being alone and bitter. If she'd had someone, she never would have descended into the Hades of workaholism. The dreamy Parisian night reminded her of that night in Italy, which brought into sharp relief that she didn't just want someone, but that who she really wanted was Ryan. But of course, he was the one getting married in Paris, in the beautiful Sainte-Chapelle, and whether she wished it or not, Darcy was going to be by his side for the rest of her life. Divorce was unheard of in the stiff, traditional Teleran society.

Susanna twirled her new platinum and sapphire necklace around her finger, wondering if she could bear to watch the nuptials tomorrow. Truth be told, the thought made her nauseous, and she wondered if there was any chance to sneak away from her mother. The sun was long gone, and a full moon rose amidst a velvety black sky full of sparkling stars. Half of her longed to go inside and curse how romantic it all was, but the other half felt content to just sit still for a minute or two.

"Been shopping already? I should've known."

A voice broke through her thoughts and before she could even wrench her eyes away from the moon, Ryan had sat down next to her. She forced a smile to her face.

"I'm in Paris, how could I resist?" she replied, trying to sound lighthearted.

He chuckled, and they sat side by side in silence for a moment or two, but Susanna couldn't bear it.

"I owe you an apology," she said suddenly, feeling bold.

He looked at her in surprise. "For what?"

"For being a complete… robot," she said with small laugh. "It's just the promotion came so suddenly and I didn't realize how much work it would be so I kind of got sucked into this black hole." She paused. "My secretary and I figured out it was you after you left. It was what finally snapped me out of it, actually. I hope you didn't say anything important," she said jokingly.

He smiled a little. "No," he said after a long pause. "I was just in town to pick up some things, and I thought I'd drop by to make sure you were coming."

It sounded like a lie, but Susanna pretended to believe it. She bit her lip, trying to decide whether she still felt bold enough to tell him what she really wanted to tell him.

"What's your stand on adultery?" she finally asked in a would-be casual voice.

He frowned in puzzlement… or was it suspicion?

"Why?" he asked.

"A friend of mine found out her boyfriend cheated on her," she lied quickly. "But she forgave him. I told her that cheating is a sin and that God is very angry with her," she said, resorting to her usual humor.

Ryan laughed. "So you put the fear of God's wrath in her, did you?"

Susanna smiled. "Eh, not really. She didn't listen to me. But I still don't think she should have forgiven him… I just think cheating is completely unforgivable."

There was a long pause. "I do, too," he finally said. "But if I had to tolerate it, I would," he added carefully.

So that was that, Susanna thought. He knew. He had to. But he was still going through with it, like a true Teleran prince. She wasn't sure whether to be exceedingly angry or exceedingly sad.

"Where will you live?" she asked.

"Oh, I haven't told you," he said, his demeanor getting a great deal happier. "I'm leaving in five days to tour Africa and Asia for charity," he said with a big smile. "I told Darcy she can decide where she wants to live for the two months I'm gone."

Susanna couldn't have been more shocked. She stared at him for a moment or two, her mouth agape. On one hand, she wondered whether he was just running away from a thorny situation, but on the other she was proud of him for wanting to do something so generous. He seemed so happy about it that she thought perhaps it was the latter. She smiled.

"Wow," she breathed. "That's amazing… it's so wonderful of you," she said, and without thinking, hugged him tightly. Withdrawing, she instinctively kept her arms around his neck, still smiling.

"Are you sure it's safe?" she asked.

He nodded. "I won't be going alone. I'll be going around with a charity group."

"What sort of things will you be doing?"

"All kinds of stuff. I'll go to schools and read to children, and hospitals to visit with patients, and villages to talk to natives."

She smiled wider. "I'm so jealous, it sounds incredible."

"It will be."

She wanted to ask him more questions, but caught sight of her watch, which blinked 10:30. She suddenly felt tired again, and knew her mother would wake her very early.

"10:30!" she cried. "I should get to bed. I can just hear my mother's voice at five a.m. already," she said with a laugh.

"Then I should, too. I think I'll just walk through the gardens a bit more," he said.

She impulsively gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Good luck tomorrow," she said, hoping he couldn't see her face, and then stood up and began to walk away.

"I'll need it," she heard him say, and it was with a rather gloomy disposition that she returned to her hotel.

Ryan watched Susanna walk away, both heartened and dispirited. She seemed herself again… but was it possible she knew about Darcy and Keith? At this point, he thought, anything was possible. But she hadn't been able to tell him straight out… or she just didn't want to. If that was so, then perhaps she wanted them to get married. This troubled him, for he had been so sure that she would be against it, especially if she knew Darcy was having an affair. He rubbed his eyes, feeling tired and confused. Because if she wanted them to get married, then why had she been so supportive of him leaving? But why would she want them to get married? She had said it herself, that she thought cheating was unforgivable. Had she been lying? Had she just been trying to get him to admit that he knew about Darcy's affair, and that he was getting married despite it? He made a frustrated noise in his throat and stood up. Why had he sat down next to her? He had seen her walk into the gardens and sit down, and he just couldn't walk away. He should've known she would only complicate things… she always did.

He began to walk toward the hotel. He suddenly hated the romantic Parisian night, with its dazzling lights, cool, fragrant air, and luminous moon. He suddenly wished that Susanna hadn't come after all, that she had stayed in her stupid zombie state. All he'd wanted was to just get through tomorrow as quickly as possible, without any doubts, but now that seemed damn near impossible. Yet he reminded himself that he had already chosen to go through with the wedding, and shook his head clear of all thoughts concerning Susanna.

He walked into his room. Darcy was asleep, judging by the silence. He walked to the bedroom and leaned against the doorframe, watching her for a moment. Her sleep seemed fitful; she kept changing positions. The sheets were tangled, and turning once more, her head left her pillow and she lay diagonally across the bed. He noticed the necklace box poking out from under her pillow. Struck by an impulse, he walked over and pulled it out. He wasn't superstitious, but a mischievous part of him did not want good luck tomorrow, and judging from her restless sleep, neither did Darcy. He set the box on the nightstand and left the room to sleep in the smaller bedroom.

Ryan slept a dreamless sleep and woke the next morning feeling rested and calm. He thought about the necklace as he stood and stretched… it was just a myth, anyway. What would happen would happen, he decided, and thought on it no more.

Dressing quickly, he called his mother's room. Not surprisingly, she was already awake and agreed to have breakfast with him.

"Just you and I," she said. "It's tradition."

Ryan rolled his eyes – he loathed the word tradition. But he hung up and took the elevator to his mother's suite, ushered in by her burly bodyguards.

"Ryan, my darling," his mother said, coming in from the balcony and giving him a kiss on both cheeks. "My son, on his wedding day." She looked him up and down. "You look… calm," she finally pronounced.

He smiled. "I am, actually."

She returned the smile and gestured him into her breakfast nook. Snapping her fingers, two waiters came in and served them a large French breakfast. Suddenly feeling very hungry, Ryan loaded his plate and began to eat. To his great surprise, however, his mother waved her hand, and her bodyguards left the room.

He raised a quizzical eyebrow. "I didn't think you really meant it," he said.

"Meant what, dear?" his mother said in her smooth voice.

"The whole 'just you and I' thing," he explained.

She laughed. "Of course I meant it."

They ate in silence for a few minutes, but Ryan knew his mother was just preparing herself for a lecture. He patiently waited for it while he ate his croissant.

"Ryan, I wanted to speak with you about something," she finally began.

Here it comes, he thought. "And what is that, Mother?"

She took a deep breath, and then smiled at him. "I wanted to apologize."

Ryan choked on his bread, and had to take a long swig of orange juice.

"What?" he asked in disbelief.

She sighed as she buttered a piece of toast. "I have been very unsupportive of your entire courtship with this young woman of yours, but when you asked her to marry you… well, it is such a strong commitment that I was convinced you must truly love her. The days of traditional royalty are past, I think. We should have supported you, all of us. I am very sorry, my son."

Ryan listened with his mouth hanging open. His mother was apologizing? A strong pang of guilt seared through him… here was his mother, the queen, believing that tradition is dead because her son is in love with a poor, working girl. What would she think if she found out he truly did not love Darcy? He cursed himself for taking the necklace out from under Darcy's pillow last night.

"Thank you, Mother," he managed to say.

"And although I think you are leaving rather quickly, I also wanted to say that I'm very proud of you for going on this goodwill tour. It is very charitable of you," she continued.

The guilt gnawed at his insides. "Thank you," he repeated.

The queen smiled cheerily and continued to eat. He tried to do the same, but the wonderful food suddenly tasted like sawdust. She noticed he had stopped eating, and smiled again.

"The nerves finally acting up, are they?" she said slyly.

He tried to chuckle. "A little, yes."

"Well, go take a long, hot shower. I know the men have the luxury of being able to prepare in less than an hour, but perhaps you could go check on the church, to calm your nerves."

He nodded, and began to rise.

"Oh, but before you leave, Ryan, go see Richard and tell him how strict you want him to be about the paparazzi, alright darling?" the queen said.

This caught him by surprise. "Yes, Mother," he said, and giving his mother a quick kiss on the cheek, he left the room. He had completely forgotten about paparazzi… they rarely bothered Telerans, as the country was so small it wasn't really worth it, but weddings were always big occasions for them. He told Richard to severely limit the amount of cameras outside the church, and then left his mother's suite to return to his own. Darcy was gone; a note on the coffee table explained that he wasn't to see her on their wedding day, and that she had already left for the church. A list of guests lay on the table, and Ryan flipped through it, mortified at the sheer amount of people that were attending. He began to feel rather dizzy, and sat down on the couch to steady himself. In all of his inner turmoil, he'd forgotten just how many pairs of eyes would be watching him marry Darcy. Indeed, he had forgotten how big the whole wedding was. He had been so self-absorbed that he hadn't seen the bigger picture.

He suddenly felt somewhat sick, and closed his eyes. The calm he had felt when he'd woken was utterly gone. Sitting there, he prayed that he would just make it through the day.

Susanna had gone to bed feeling glum but resigned to the fact that Ryan was marrying Darcy, even though he knew about her affair. She woke feeling pretty much the same way, but her insides twisted at the thought that the actual wedding was just a few hours away.

She'd had the good fortune to wake up before her mother came to get her, and managed to eat a rather large breakfast before Mrs. Bennet came knocking at her door.

"Come in!" Susanna called, and her mother marched in.

"Good, you've already eaten," she said briskly. "You are to be showered and ready to have your hair done in two hours."

"Alright," Susanna said, looking at her watch. It was eleven o'clock – Susanna was shocked her mother hadn't come earlier.

"When does the ceremony start?" she asked.

"Not until six this evening," her mother told her.

Susanna was surprised it was so late, but shrugged and continued eating. That gave her plenty of time to decide if she really wanted to skive off or not. She was leaning toward yes, but what if, by some extraordinary chance, something happened?

Her mother brought in her dress and hung it carefully on the closet door. Her godmother's gleaming shoes sat patiently in a box beneath the dress, as if asking her to wear them, at least for a little bit.

With another reminder to get showered, her mother bustled out of the room. Susanna sat still for another minute or two, thinking about her options. She really should just stick it out and sit through the ceremony. Her godmother had done so much to get her here, and she would feel rather awful if she ran away. Yet she still felt so guilty… but wait a minute, she had yelled at Darcy before, she could do it again, couldn't she? She didn't even have to yell at her, she could just tell her to think twice about what she was doing… the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. She wasn't being meddlesome, she was being a concerned citizen. She wouldn't tell Darcy not marry Ryan, she would just advise her to stop her affair with Keith. It was just a bit of advice, right?

Glancing at her watch, she moved quickly to change into some jeans and a jacket. Hurrying to leave the hotel, she racked her brain to think of the quickest way to get to the Sainte-Chapelle. By both walking and taking the metro, she managed to reach the church in a record half hour. She showed a guard her ID and was directed to Darcy's bridal suite. Forcing herself not to stand around and goggle at the church, she hurried to Darcy's room. She found it without much trouble, and raised her hand to knock on the door.

For a brief second, she paused. She hadn't prepared what she was going to say, nor had she had thought of how Darcy would react. Susanna would, after all, have to tell her just how she had found out about the affair, something Susanna now dreaded doing. But the thought of the affair was enough to anger Susanna once more, and she rapped the door sharply.

The door opened and a head poked out, belonging to a woman of lesser stature than Susanna. She looked harried, but inclined her head to Susanna all the same.

"I need to speak with Darcy," Susanna said quickly, trying to push her way in.

"I'm sorry, Lady Bennet, but no one is allowed in," the woman said.

Susanna scowled. "This is important!" she nearly snarled.

The woman looked frightened, but shook her head. "I'm sorry, miss, strict orders."

Susanna stamped her foot and stepped away as the woman slammed the door shut. She glanced around helplessly, feeling even guiltier than before. She'd had a chance to bring the truth out, and had failed. She crossed the veranda and leaned partway out of the open-air windows, knowing she couldn't linger and yet wanting to. She decided then and there that she couldn't possibly watch this wedding. She was going to have to find a way out.

Her mind finally calmed and, taking a deep breath, she withdrew from the window. She heard footsteps to her left, and turned her head to see who was coming. As the person approached, Susanna gasped. Her chance was restored! She glanced to the ceiling and murmured a quick 'thank you' to the man upstairs, and then turned to wait for Keith to approach her.

When he saw her, he froze. Noticing her lethal look, he looked around to see if there were any witnesses. When he saw none, his shoulders slumped.

Leaning against the wall, Susanna spoke in a tone icy enough to freeze the desert.

"Since I am not allowed to speak with Darcy, I am going to speak with you," she said.

He swallowed. "About what?"

"I think you know, but in case you are thinking of denying it, I'll say it for you."

There was a tense pause. Susanna took a step forward.

"You have to stop this foolish affair. Do you have any idea what damage you could cause?" she hissed.

His eyes fell. "How do you know?" he whispered after a moment.

She grunted. "I have a knack for finding out things I have no desire of knowing," she said.

He didn't say anything, which only heightened Susanna's anger.

"Why are you here anyway?" she asked. "Did it begin in New York? Has this been going on for months?"

"No!" he finally said, upset. He sighed. "It's only been going on for a few weeks."

"It has to end today, Keith. She will be reviled in Telera if it ever gets out."

"She doesn't have to marry him."

"Yes, she does, Keith," Susanna said sadly.

"He doesn't love her! I do!" he cried, startling her.

After a moment, Susanna said, "It doesn't matter. You don't understand our society, you're American."

"I don't care about your stupid society. You should at least have the human decency to let people marry someone they love!"

Susanna sighed. "Well, we don't." She suddenly realized that he may try to do something to disrupt the wedding. Even though she was probably just as against this marriage as he was, she couldn't stand to give the Teleran people a reason to hate Darcy.

"Keith, you cannot do anything to change this. You have to let her go," she said as forcefully as she could.

He stayed silent. Susanna knew she should have left ages ago… even if she left now, she only had a half hour before she was supposed to get her hair done. So, still not knowing whether she had gotten through to him or not, she turned on her heel and left the church.

On the way home, and in the shower, Susanna fretted over whether she had helped or just made things worse. If Keith thought that he could somehow stop the wedding and make everyone think that their affair was okay because he "loved" her, he was in for an awful surprise.

At precisely five to one, Susanna got out of the shower feeling clean on the inside, but not so clean on the inside. But she forced herself not to dwell on it; it would give her a headache.

She put on the fuzzy hotel bathrobe and was combing her hair when her mother strode in, followed by her hairstylist. It seemed that her mother had already decided on Susanna's hair style, and so Susanna sat in a chair without a fuss, but instead of dozing off, she intently engaged her mother in conversation. Keeping her mother off the topic of the wedding was difficult, but in trying very hard to do just that, Susanna was able to keep her mind off of Darcy, Keith, Ryan, and this whole mess she had gotten herself into.

After an hour or so, the hairstylist proclaimed he was finished, and Susanna eagerly looked in the mirror. Her hair, still slightly curly, had been pulled into a soft twist at the nape of her neck, held together by a sparkling amethyst clip. She enthusiastically thanked the hairstylist, who nodded and then looked to her mother. Her mother announced that she was now going to leave to get her own hair done, but that they were to have their nails polished together at precisely 2:30.

But after relaxing by watching television for an hour and a half, the rest of the afternoon went by in a blur. Nails, makeup, dress… before she knew it, Susanna was standing in her room, fully dressed, and ready to go. Her mother was picking up her up at quarter to five, which was now a mere ten minutes away.

Susanna argued with herself; should she stay in the church? But what if Keith did do something, and announced to everyone that Susanna had pushed him toward it? Even though she hated the ridiculous Teleran society, Susanna had just gotten on good terms with her mother after years of rift. Her cynicism softened; the last thing she wanted was for them to be fighting again. But even if she wasn't there, there was still the chance that Keith would still disrupt the wedding in some way, she just wouldn't be there to see it.

She suddenly wished she hadn't said anything. She had been telling herself all afternoon that it had been good that she had at least brought it out into the open, but now she felt that she may have just screwed things up even worse. She made a frustrated noise, and slammed a fist against the wall. This, oddly enough, cleared her mind and she suddenly made her decision: she couldn't watch this wedding. She just couldn't. Forget Darcy and Keith and their stupid affair, never mind if Keith was going rush forward and declare to all Telera that he loved Darcy… the bottom line was that she just couldn't watch Ryan get married. She just couldn't.

At 4:43, Susanna left her room and went downstairs to meet her mother at the car, plotting ways to leave the church. The slippers were enormously comfortable, and she kept lifting the hem of her skirt to look at them in the mirrored elevator doors. The doors suddenly opened, though, and she quickly dropped her skirt and tried to set her face into as normal an expression as possible. She crossed the lobby to find her mother waiting for her at the doors. A few other nobles mingled around, waiting for their cars, and Susanna nodded politely to each one. She laughed inwardly; how could she have questioned her godmother about this dress? Everyone was dressed in their absolute finest.

Her mother ushered her into the car and then got in after her. They didn't speak as the car made its way toward the Sainte-Chapelle; Susanna was too busy staring out the window, trying not to meet her mother's eye.

The line of black luxury cars stretched nearly a mile from the church, and the going was slow. At nearly twenty of six, they finally arrived, escorted out of the car by a white-gloved gentleman with a thin mustache. A few of the press were there and began to snap pictures. One actually recognized Susanna and called out her name, but she just raised her hand in acknowledgment and continued into the church.

Her mother was too busy trying to find out who they were sitting by to notice Susanna craning her neck every which way, agape, her plan forgotten for the time being. The church looked breathtakingly magnificent, with white lilies and white rose petals scattered everywhere. Susanna dumbly followed her mother, forgetting to politely smile at the other aristocracy, as Mrs. Bennet marched to their seats near the front of the church. Once she had sat down however, and her eyes fell on the altar, Susanna suddenly remembered her plan, and began to feel nervous. Her mother's hand was still clasped around her wrist, as if silently forbidding her to go anywhere. But the sight of the wedding around her made Susanna feel more anxious to leave than ever, and she nimbly pulled her hand from her mother's grasp and began to rise.

Her mother instantly ended her conversation with the Count of Palaria and turned to her daughter.

"Where are you going?" she said with dangerous smile.

Susanna bent down. "I have to go to the bathroom," she said in a childish voice.

Her mother glared at her. "I told you to go before we left," she hissed.

Susanna shrugged. "I have time," she assured her mother.

Mrs. Bennet looked lethal, but gave the slightest of nods, and Susanna bounded out of the pew and down the aisle. Bobbing her head like a toy on the dashboard, she nodded and smiled graciously to the other guests, but walked as quickly as she could out of the church. No one noticed her, not even the cameras, as she dashed away from the church. The bridge nearby was empty of cars, and instead a few people, mostly couples, strolled down the beautiful stone arch as the sun left the sky and the moon took its place.

Susanna suddenly felt silly in her lavish ball gown, but when no one looked at her oddly, she paused by a lamp and leaned over the edge of the bridge. She felt a sense of finality, but also a strong surge of beginning. When she returned to New York, she decided, she would call Mr. Simmons and ask him how he had managed to stay human and be president at the same time. She would plan ahead to call her mother at least twice a week, and perhaps even willingly go to a therapist. She felt like she needed it.

Ryan, having felt sick and dizzy, had actually fallen asleep for a good part of the afternoon. He didn't wake until quarter to four, when a harsh knocking at his door abruptly woke him up.

"Ryan! Where are you? It's almost four o'clock!" he heard his brother yell. Ryan bolted up from the couch and looked at his watch. He suddenly felt sick again.

He smoothed his hair as best he could, and then opened the door. Roberto, fully dressed in his tuxedo, was standing on the other side.

"You're not dressed!" he cried, stepping inside. "You're getting married in two hours!"

"I know," Ryan groaned quietly. "I had a headache, I must've fallen asleep," he explained.

Roberto rolled his eyes. "Only you, my brother, would sleep on his wedding day."

Ryan shrugged. He didn't particularly care about getting married anymore.

"Well, shower and get dressed. I'll lie and tell Mother you went to check on the church earlier," Roberto said, clapping his brother on the shoulder and leaving the room.

Ryan did as he was told, for once, and undressed and got in the shower. His mind was blank, for which he was very grateful, as he washed and then got dressed in his tuxedo. This time, he had the diamond cufflinks, and he remembered with a smile when his cufflink had popped off at Roberto's wedding and Susanna had caught it under her shoe. He almost wished he could go back to then, when he still disliked her, and never knew a Darcy, or a Keith. But all this was, after all, his fault. He had been the one to want to come to New York, and he had been the one to want to be a so-called "rebel".

He sighed and put on his shoes. It would soon all be in the past, and he'd be miles and miles away.

By quarter after five, he and his brother had driven to the church to check everything one last time. Ryan forced himself to be perfectly civil with Keith, but it was extremely difficult. Not because of himself, but because Keith was acting very oddly. He kept making a strangled noise as if to say something, and whenever Ryan would catch his eye, Keith would savagely glare at him. Something suddenly dawned on Ryan; did Keith actually fancy himself in love with Darcy? A flood of panic ran through him… would Keith do something to upset the wedding? Keith, after all, wouldn't understand the enormous repercussions of something like that. He was used to being American… free speech, and all that. But in a Teleran wedding, a royal wedding, nonetheless… He decided that even Keith wouldn't be so stupid as to try and disrupt the wedding, and went on trying to be polite with him.

By half past five, the guests were arriving, and Ryan was stowed away in a small room off to the side of the altar. But by ten to six, when he poked his head around the door, he didn't see Susanna. Her mother was there, who kept glancing around nervously, presumably for her daughter, but Susanna wasn't anywhere to be seen. This both calmed and unnerved him, but he had no time to dwell on it, because before he knew it, he was being told to go and stand on the altar.

He took his time to do this simple act. First he had to persuade himself to actually open the door and leave the safety of the tiny room. Then he had to remind himself how to walk; right, left, right, left. Then came the task of stepping up onto the altar in front of all these people… this took some time, but he managed to place his right foot on the raised floor, and push himself up. He took a deep breath, clasped his hands together in front of him, and then turned and waited for his bride.

There was a minute or so pause before anything happened. Ryan kept glancing back and forth between the empty seat where Susanna should have been, and the place in the corner where Keith stood, his eyes fiercely glowering at the whole scene. But then the organ began to play; first, his mother walked down the aisle. Everyone sprung from their seats and bowed as she gracefully made her way to her seat in the front pew. Then came the bridesmaids and groomsmen, a carefully selected group of aristocratic young men and women. Then the organ struck up the wedding tune, and everyone stood. Darcy appeared alone in the doorway, dressed in long, billowy white dress, which sparkled and twinkled in the luminous light of the church. He couldn't tell from behind her veil, but Ryan had a feeling she looked both petrified and exhilarated.

She made her way down the aisle at a steady pace, and as she got closer, Ryan noticed that her dress sparkled because of the tiny diamonds that were encrusted in the bodice of her gown. She finally stepped up onto the altar as the organ died down, and Ryan gave her a faint smile as they turned to face the priest.

Yet as the priest began to speak, Ryan found he couldn't daze off like he had expected to. Instead, he found himself hanging on to every word the priest said about marriage, love, and the bond he was making with Darcy. Of course he had agonized over this decision for weeks, but somehow actually hearing the words made him truly terrified for the first time of the choice he had made. Each word lolled around in his mind, taunting him and forcing him to rethink his entire life. Then he heard the words he had been both anticipating and dreading –

"If any of you object or can show just cause why these two may not lawfully be married, speak now; or else for ever hold your peace."

There was a long, dreadful pause. The time had come for Ryan to make his final decision, and without allowing himself time for second doubts, he made it. Then –

"I object."

Ryan looked around to see who else had spoken, for he was quite sure he hadn't been the only one. The church immediately broke out into bedlam, as people tried to see who had spoken and to make sure they had heard correctly. Ryan, however, was looking at Darcy, who had lifted her veil. She was crying.

"I'm sorry, Ryan, I just couldn't…"

"Darcy!" Ryan looked to see Keith bounding down the aisle. He knew now that three people had spoken… Darcy, Keith, and himself. In the complete chaos of the church, no one really seemed to actually notice what was happening on the altar. Keith jumped up and joined them.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't just stand there and let you marry someone else!" Keith said; he, too, was crying. He turned to Ryan. "I apologize, but I love her. You don't."

Ryan nodded, feeling anxious to leave but wanting them to understand. "I know."

"You knew?" Darcy said, looking torn between despair and happiness.

"All along," Ryan said. Darcy looked heartbroken, but then Keith took her hands.

"But we can be together now," he said.

Ryan couldn't stand watching their romantic reunion any longer; his eyes caught once more the empty seat where Susanna should have been. Panicked that she may have returned to New York, and perhaps to her soulless state, he began to leave. But he caught his mother's eyes for just a moment; he shrugged slightly, apologizing, but to his great surprise, she nodded. He smiled and rushed out of the church. On the front steps sat an elder man feeding the birds. Ryan desperately approached him.

"Pardon, monsieur, mais avez-vous vu une femme partir de l'église?" he asked quickly. (Pardon, sir, have you seen a woman leave the church?)

"Ah, oui, monsieur," the man said in a husky voice. "Dans une robe violet?" (In a purple dress?)

Although Ryan had no idea what color dress Susanna had on, he nodded.

"Mais oui, monsieur. Elle a marché au pont," he said, pointing to the bridge. (She walked to the bridge)

"Merci," Ryan said promptly, and then hurried to the bridge. The priest's speech about marriage and love had convinced him that even if he did charity for the rest of his life, nothing would be able to replace having his true love by his side. He had never loved Darcy; he did, however, love Susanna, and if there was anyone that he could ever even think about spending forever with, it had to be her.

He hurtled across the bridge, earning him a few amused stares from the couples strolling by. He came to a halt, however, at the very end of the bridge. Along the banks of the river was a dock, and at the end of the dock, set up on the dewy grass, was a tent, alit with sparkling lights. People were laughing and dancing to an accordion and violin, but this wasn't what caught Ryan's eye. What did was just one of those people dancing, but she alone wasn't laughing.

Ryan left the bridge and walked through the grass towards the tent. A group along the edges saw him and, laughing and clapping, allowed him to join them in the tent. He managed to smile, but worked his way through the crowd until he was right behind Susanna, who was dancing with a distinguished elder man. He mouthed to the man asking if he could cut in. The man smiled and obliged, turning Susanna around so that she faced Ryan instead.

Her mouth immediately fell open into a very inelegant O, but he took her arms and began to waltz. She couldn't seem to find her voice, but continued to stare at him as if she had never seen anything quite like him. The dance, however, forced them to switch partners, and after he had twirled around with his new partner for awhile, he turned to find that she was gone.

He stood on his tiptoes and saw her striding away along the grass, barefoot, one hand on her head. He hurried to the edge of the tent, where a gleaming set of shoes had caught his eye. Picking one up, he knew they had to be hers, and he slipped the shoe into the inner pocket of his jacket. He then jogged to catch up with her.

She still had her back to him as if she hadn't heard him come. He reached out to touch her arm, but she suddenly turned, looking very distressed.

"It was Keith, wasn't it? I should have known he would do something stupid like this. This is all my fault! My mother will kill me when she finds out… I'll be exiled… you must have come here to yell at me… I knew I shouldn't have butted in, why couldn't I have just kept quiet?" she ranted, pacing back and forth.

Half afraid she had lost her mind, and half curious as to what she was talking about, Ryan said, very carefully, "What are talking about?"

She finally stayed still and looked at him. It suddenly occurred to him how sad she looked, and it broke his heart.

"I… I found out about Darcy and Keith. Weeks ago, mind you, but then my job… well, you saw how it was like. I didn't know whether to tell you or not, but then last night… I knew you had to have known. But I couldn't stand knowing about it and knowing that they would probably just continue when you left so I… I went to tell Keith to end it… well, actually I went to tell Darcy, but I couldn't get to her so…" she paused. "But now they've gone and turned this wedding into a disaster and everyone will blame you for it when it's really all my fault!" she ended, her voice somewhere between sadness and anger.

But Ryan no longer cared about Darcy and Keith; now all he wanted to do was tell Susanna what he should have told her long ago.

"It's not your fault," he insisted, filling the space between them and putting his hands on her upper arms and his forehead on the crown of her head. "I called the wedding off, too."

Susanna's brow furrowed in puzzlement and she looked up at him. "You did? Why?" she asked, but not any breathy, romantic tone; she looked like she really wanted to know.

He smiled, but instead of answering the question, he asked her one. "Why didn't you come?"

Her eyes clouded over and she looked to the ground. "I… I just couldn't… watch you… and Darcy… because then I remembered…"

"Remembered what?"

She looked up at him, and the words finally came. "Italy." She paused, and then shrugged. "I just couldn't watch you marry her, Ryan. Not if I still thought I was in love with you."

His heart gave a silly little leap. He grinned. "Well, I couldn't marry Darcy because I couldn't marry someone I didn't love, even if I did agree to it. Nothing would be able to replace an empty marriage, not even charity." He paused. "I've been foolish, this whole time. I shouldn't have tried to rebel against anyone… if I had just opened my eyes, I would have seen that the person I loved was right where she should have been, all along."

Susanna then smiled, too, a sight that made him very happy.

"So… no Cinderella for you, Prince Charming?" she asked mischievously, fiddling with his lapel.

He chuckled. "Nah… she's a bit cliché, don't you think?"

She laughed. "But then you'll have to settle for one of the nobles," she said mock-seriously.

He shrugged playfully. "That's alright. I've already got my eye on a pretty good one."

"Oh really? Who is it?"

He smiled, but didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out the glass slipper.

"Whosever's foot fits this shoe," he said with a grin, "shall be my princess."

Susanna rolled her eyes, but she laughed as he lowered himself to one knee. She raised the hem of her skirt and lifted one foot. The shoe glided right on.

"Well, what do you know," Susanna said with pseudo surprise. "Looks like you're stuck with me, pal."

Ryan laughed and stood back up, putting his arms around her waist. "I think I can deal with that." He paused and smiled at her. "Susanna, I love you."

She smiled, and for the first time, it was wholly devoid of any mark of unhappiness.

"I love you, too," she replied, and then put her hands around his neck and drew him in for a kiss, proving that although you may not have lived the fairy tale you thought you would, you can still live your own and have a very happy ending.

Author's Notes:

Dear readers,

Nay, 'tis not the end! I'm planning on putting an epilogue, if the masses demand it, which I suspect they will.

Sorry this took so very long. The delay was partially my stubbornness to let this story go, and partially my own perfectionism (is that a word? Oh well, it is now). I apologize deeply, but you have to admit, it is rather long and hopefully satisfying! It was fifteen pages on Word, which may be a record for me.

So review review review!!!!!!!! If you've never reviewed before, please do so now!!!

How to keep reading NazgulQueen:

1. Read my stories in other genres. I have Ella Enchanted, LOTR, and POTC.

2. Watch for new stories. I have two planned; one fairy tale and one Harry Potter.

COMING ATTRACTIONS! Here is the summary for my new fairy tale! Tell me what you think!

The king wants Ginger under the false notion that she can spin straw into gold, but with some help from a mysterious little man, she manages to do it and keep herself alive. But the king isn't the only one who wants her and her gold, and Ginger soon finds herself caught in the middle of a battle of wits, power, and idiotic rulers.

In case you couldn't tell, it's a Rumpelstilskin story. Watch for it to be posted (hopefully) by September.

3. Watch for revisions! I'm still perfecting The White Rose, which (again, hopefully) will be revised and updated by the time I get the epilogue up. I'm also doing a few revisions on this story, as well, which should be up sometime soon.

So thank you all again VERY VERY MUCH!!!!!!!!!! This has been, by far, my most successful story EVER and it has been wonderful to share it with you. So keep reading NazgulQueen and remember, review! (I am shameless, aren't I?)

Obediently yours, your humble servant, etc.,

Emma the NazgulQueen

P.S. Although I take French in school, it's still rather awful, so my humblest apologies if it's wrong.