Marriage Of Convenience

You know the popular saying;  “After wedding Comes marriage.”

It wasn’t far-fetched in my fate. The royal guards had led us to Prince Reuben’s mansion in the palace but shortly afterwards, the queen had joined us. Notably, she didn’t come alone.

In her company was a short chubby man with a striking bald hair and an all-smiling face, which resembled that of my grandpa. She introduced him as Marshal, our personal guard.

According to the queen, Marshal would attend to our personal errands and ensured we never lacked any personal needs, be it official errands but I knew this Marshal of a guard was more of a spy than her intent.

The queen needed to place an eagle eye on us.

“Can we see briefly in the sitting room, Emily,” that was the voice of the queen, bits of uncertainty hung in her blue eyes and white face. I could notice her jaw drop, and it registered suspicion in my mind.

What was she suspecting and what did she take me for? All the while Imelda dated Queen Theresa, I never developed a closer rapport with her. She had visited our home a few times; just as my mother had told me but I never bonded with her in any pragmatic effort.

I raised a brow and noticed the paper in her hands. The prince came out shortly and took permission to join his cousin in the post-wedding party holding in the palace. I could see a few ballet dancers entertaining the guest while the royal chieftain and associates had fun which was displayed in their ocean of smiles.

Here I was standing before the queen, in a wedding gown that itched me so much with the constant reminder of who I was ; just a substitute wife in paper and nothing more.

The queen poured wine for two but I rejected mine, still curious like puppy about why she had invited me to the sitting room, when I should be resting in my room.

“Once again congratulations, dear, for substituting for your twin sister. Your twin sister and I have cultured a stronger relationship that is beyond marriage. I have been her fan and it was in one of those occasions when she visited the palace that she revealed to me about her dating the prince.”

The queen spoke with so much sincerity that I argued if she would ever approve of another woman getting married to the prince except Imelda.

“The substitute wife was my idea,” she continued after series of deep grinning, “I mean seeing you right now excites me with the picture of Imelda. I will give credence to identical creation. I see Imelda in you. Seeing you everyday will give me the feeling that she is in the marriage that is why I want you to substitute for her while you remain in the palace otherwise nothing stops me from ordering you to stay away.”

I swallowed hard, the curves of my face pumping in emotion that I really fought hard not to cry. I wish she was in this marriage not me and defiantly she would have to because she was not going to remain in a coma forever.

The queen told me how her palace doctors had joined the other private doctors to ensure Imelda didn’t last in that coma and more notably she had promised to do her best to bring her back to this marriage.

“It is a marriage in paper and nothing more,” the queen intoned emphatically, her eyelashes reminding me of certain obscure consequences I would have to arm myself with in the course of this marriage, “There are rules , Emily,” she tossed her head, this time her voice beaming.

I raised a brow and noticed her fingers gently sliding open the papers in her hand.

“The first and foremost rule is that there is no intimacy of whatsoever, no strings attached, no emotional feelings for the prince and vice versa. If such temptation comes do whatever you can to repel it. Am I understood?” she winked at me, hoping I got the message.

I bowed and tossed my head, daring to process those rules and getting them registered in my heart, while I thought I would never forget them or fall short.

“Your twin sister will be delighted to see that you stood in the gap for her and worthy of note that you kept her marriage without snatching her husband.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that, Her Royal Majesty,” I replied, this time just to officially concur to the rules and remind her of my intention in the marriage. “I just want to fill in that gap and that is all,” I added very calmly.

“Yes, you wouldn’t do that in words, but can you put pen to paper?” she placed he papers on the desk and forced a smile which beckoned on me to step forward. You shall sign today to abide by these rules. I don’t need to remind you of the consequences at your leisure you can read through. I will leave you with a copy. You shall personally read the consequences.”

I didn’t notice the anger in her tone than I noticed in her eyes. She focused on me as would a camera in the hands of paparazzi. I clenched on the pen, my hands trembling as I signed and dated.

I wondered why my hands trembled so much but before I could foster the reason for it, tears trickled down my cheeks. I wept because this wasn’t the way Imelda and I planned this, and I would ordinarily keep her marriage with or without a binding law.

 Shortly after the queen left, I recoiled in my room, and noticed the camera planted at strategic positions and the short thick-looking guard, Marshall by name, standing on the corridor, that led to Prince Reuben’s room.

It just recurred to me now that Marshall was just there for a reason and of course, it was to monitor us and give detailed report about us to the queen.

Right now I felt less than a caretaker and I didn’t have issues with that either. I had a boyfriend whom I loved so much and all my feelings and emotional needs were tied to him. I didn’t see myself getting intimate with the prince.

“I won’t fail you Imelda. But, please, wake up soon and take your place,” I mumbled in tears , my gaze on her photo.