Becoming His Queen 👸🏽 UPDATED STORY

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Royal Encounters

The sun dipped low over the rolling hills surrounding the royal estate, casting a golden hue across the manicured lawns. Tonight marked an important pre-wedding gathering—an elite event bringing together royal families from across Europe and beyond. It was an introduction for Nyla, a symbolic welcome into this exclusive world before her official wedding day.

Nyla stood next to Ryan in the expansive ballroom, her sapphire-blue gown glistening under the crystal chandeliers. The room was filled with dignitaries and royals, each representing a storied lineage that traced back centuries. As Nyla scanned the room, she noticed the sea of familiar European faces, with only a small sprinkling of royals from diverse backgrounds. One of them, the King and Queen of Ligeria—an African nation—offered Nyla a warm, welcoming smile. Nyla was grateful for their presence; they felt like a rare but comforting oasis in the midst of the overwhelming crowd.

She took a deep breath, her grip tightening around Ryan's arm. "Ready?" Ryan whispered, his eyes filled with encouragement.

"As I'll ever be," Nyla replied, summoning her confidence.

The first interactions were pleasant enough—polite conversations about the upcoming wedding, the weather, and the grandeur of the event. But Nyla could feel the undercurrents of skepticism, the sidelong glances, and the whispers as she moved through the room.

It wasn't long before she encountered a small cluster of royal ladies near the grand fireplace. They were dressed in opulent gowns, their jewels glistening as they observed Nyla with a mix of curiosity and disdain. Lady Beatrice, one of the most influential royals from France, was the first to speak, her tone laced with thinly veiled condescension.

"So, you're the American bride," Lady Beatrice said, her smile polite but cold. "It must be quite a change from Los Angeles."

Nyla sensed the underlying implication. "It's definitely different," she replied, her voice calm but firm. "But I'm learning quickly and bringing my own touch to things."

Lady Beatrice's friend, Lady Victoria of Austria, chimed in, her gaze cool. "It must be fascinating to step into royalty so suddenly. It's not something one can truly understand without the right... background."

Nyla felt the heat rise in her chest, but she refused to let it show. "Backgrounds are important, but so are character and resilience," she said, her words carrying a subtle challenge.

The tension in the air thickened as another royal, Princess Elizabeta of Bulgaria, added with a hint of mockery, "Well, I suppose it's an interesting choice to have someone from, what do they call it—'South Central'? Isn't that part of LA known for... struggles?"

Nyla's eyes flashed. "Yes, and those struggles shaped me into who I am today," she shot back, her voice strong. "And believe it or not, those experiences are what make me a perfect fit for this role. You see, I know how to fight for what matters, even in the face of skepticism."

The royal ladies exchanged glances, clearly taken aback by Nyla's boldness.

"Ah, I see," Lady Beatrice said, her tone colder now. "Well, not everyone in this room understands that kind of fight."

Nyla stepped closer, her stance confident. "That's fine. I didn't come here to be understood by everyone. I came here to build bridges, not walls. I know I'm different, and I won't apologize for it."

The small crowd around them began to murmur, clearly impressed by Nyla's composure and unapologetic stance. Ryan, who had been watching from a distance, approached with a proud smile.

"Is everything alright here?" he asked, his tone protective but curious.

"Perfectly fine," Nyla replied, her eyes still locked with Lady Beatrice's. "Just getting to know the royals a bit better."

Lady Victoria, realizing she'd met her match, attempted a graceful retreat. "Well, Nyla, I suppose you do have a certain... strength about you. Perhaps it's what this family needs."

"Perhaps," Nyla agreed, her voice unwavering. "Because in the end, a true queen knows how to stand tall—no matter where she's from."

Ryan wrapped an arm around Nyla's waist, his pride evident. "That's why she's perfect," he said simply.

As they walked away from the group, Ryan whispered, "I'm proud of you, Nyla. You handled that perfectly."

Nyla nodded, feeling a sense of triumph. "I had to. I need them to know I'm not here to fit a mold—I'm here to make my own."

As the evening continued, Nyla felt a shift in the atmosphere. The royal gathering may have started with judgment, but it was ending with respect. She had asserted herself, not just as Ryan's bride-to-be, but as a force of her own. She was ready to embrace this world—on her own terms.