Page 9 of Fall of the Ember Throne (Crown and Crest 3)

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “You’re here to help me dress for the coronation. We might as well go back to my rooms and begin.”

“She’s right.” Hyacinth grins as she nudges my shoulder. “If we start now, we might have Clover presentable in time.”

* * *

King Algernon’ssteward opens Lawrence’s door when I knock, smiling when he sees my ladies and me. “Hello, Your Highness.”

The greeting makes my smile freeze on my face, and I remind myself he’s no longer Algernon’s steward, but Lawrence’s. And I am no longer a mere lady-in-waiting.

“Prince Lawrence is expecting you,” he says.

Lawrence appears behind him, stepping into the doorway. “I’d like a moment with Clover.”

When I see the prince in his coronation finery, my greeting catches in my throat. He looks very much like a young king. Tears sting my eyes for no reason I can name, and I realize if I’m not careful, I will undo all the work the ladies and their maids put into me.

“Of course.” The steward bows his head as he steps past me into the hall. “I will return when it’s time to leave.”

Before the man has the words out of his mouth, Lawrence grabs my wrist and drags me into the room. To the ladies behind me, he says, “I’ll return Clover to you soon.”

They giggle, likely thinking the moment is more romantic than it is.

“We’ll wait for you near the back entrance to the great hall,” Calla says as they leave.

“That’s fine.” Lawrence firmly shuts the door and then releases me. With a shaky grin, he gestures to his burgundy velvet doublet. It’s studded with gems and embroidered with gold—very different from his everyday attire. “What do you think? Do I look kingly?”

His face is pale next to his light copper hair, and his eyes are too wide.

“You can do this,” I say softly, ignoring his bravado.

His expression dims, and he rubs a hand over his eyes. “I’m not ready.”

“I don’t think you have a choice.”

He drops his hand, frowning slightly. “Aren’t you supposed to offer encouragement at a time like this?”

I smile. “I thought the truth might be more helpful in this case.”

Slowly, his eyes travel over me. Minda prepared a silken dress in dark emerald, with long, fitted sleeves and a high neckline with a sweetheart cutout that keeps it modern. I’ve worn it before—I stood in Camellia’s place for the final fittings several months ago.

How fortunate we wear the same size.

“You look beautiful.” He pinches my sleeve between his finger and thumb, rubbing the fabric as he studies me. “I’ve always liked you in green. It brings out the fire in your eyes.”

“You’re going to be a fine king,” I tell him quietly. “You know that, don’t you?”

A self-deprecating smile flickers over his face. “I will be an adequate king at best, but no one will care. The people will be blinded by my beautiful queen, seeing nothing but her. It’s a devious plan, but I think it’s going to work.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I whisper, feeling that all-too-familiar, painful hitch in my chest.

The prince sets his hands on my sides and pulls me into him. His light brown eyes meet mine, pleading. “Let me pretend you’re mine—just for tonight.”

“Lawrence…”

“Let me pretend that you love me.”

I set my hand on his cheek. “I do love you, and I know you’re going to get through this.”

Surprising me, he leans into my touch and closes his eyes. “Say it again, but this time, try to make it sound less like you’re talking to one of your brothers.”

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