Most men carry brides over thresholds and only after they are wed. Here I was being carried into church in my groom’s arms.

 Walking beside him was my soon-to-be-daughter. I had asked Arne to make sure she wore her prettiest dress and he did. Clara skipped down the aisle in a yellow ensemble. Her hair crowned with marigolds.

 We passed her up, coming before the alter. The parson gave us the vows to repeat. After Arne, I said mine, feeling his strong arms warm as they held me. I kept my eyes on his, rejoicing internally for this moment while also anticipating the moments to follow. But how could I not feel safe in his arms?

 With the way he smiled at me so assuredly, I knew this was no mistake. Whatever was to come of us, I truly believed in the bond we shared. I believed Arne and I could face anything.

 By the end of the vows, we were husband and wife. But he would not kiss me. Not yet.

 Arne turned to the parson. "Come with us," he said before rushing us out the door and down the stone steps of the church. The parson followed, confused as Arne took us towards the center of the town.

 “What is your idea, sir?”

 Arne ignored him, turning to the street. “Goddag, everyone!”

 Strangers halted at the sound of Arne's strong voice. Every eye soon landed on us.

 Arne raised me more as if to present me. “Hils my new wife. I want the world to see her, and to witness our first kiss as kin.”

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 Gasps of delight among the crowd were followed by a gentle applause. Clara began hopping and giggling near her father’s leg. I could here my heart pounding nervously.

 Arne finally looked down at me, his platinum brows lifting as if saying, ‘Ready?’. I grinned as a response.

 His face lowered to mine, his arm pressing me closer to his chest as kissed me hard. Stunned by his passion, my eyes nearly rolled back. Arne had a way of rendering a girl unconscious.

 I felt him begin to unwrap the blanket covering my tail. At the last tug, he withdrew his lips and dropped blanket over the cobblestone street. My tail was on display for all to see, dangling out the bottom of my dress.

 The gasps that ensued were not of delight this time. I felt the sudden tension heating the air around us but refused to look anywhere but Arne's eyes. Not the crowd, nor the gaping parson. Just the cobalt blue of my husband’s soul.

 One more and final tug, he gave my head scarf, revealing my scarlet locs. Revealing me.

 A riot erupted. I could hear the parson raving. Poor Clara wept at the reactions of the people. But Arne didn’t flinch. And neither did I.

 It wasn’t long before the prince's men were alerted to surround us. Their rifles directed our way. Arne stared unfazed at the men, gently moving his hand over my face to keep my head against his chest.

 “Wait!” Cutting through the crowd, Ida's mother, Gertrude approached with raised arms. The soldiers moved aside as the woman crouched down, taking Clara. “Let me keep the child for you.”

 Arne nodded. “Thank you, Gertrude.”

 Though she nodded back at him, her frequent blinks displayed a silent disapproval. She turned away quickly with Clara despite the girl's pleas to stay with us.

 I frowned. We knew we'd be separated, but it still tore my heart. My spine was on the verge of a shiver. Everything I feared was becoming real.

 No regrets, Ariel. Find your courage.

 Glancing up at the soldiers, I matched Arne’s audacity. Looking ahead, my gaze was on the palace, ready for whatever would be next.