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My father—yes. He’ll help me. If anyone will know how to end a royal engagement with tact and aplomb, it’s him. He was on King Algernon’s council for twenty years. He’ll know what to do.

It’s going to be all right.

“You’ll summon him?” I ask.

“I will.”

I sit at the large hickory table in the middle of the room, staring at him.

Taking a step back, Lawrence widens his eyes. “Rightnow?”

I clasp my hands in my lap and give him a curt nod. “Right now.”

* * *

Father sits backin his chair, studying Lawrence and me. Finally, he says, “You cannot break the engagement.”

He’s a calm man—rational, wise, excellent at seeing pitfalls up ahead.

It’s always made me a little crazy, to be honest.

Pressing my forehead to the cool tabletop, I groan. “So, you think it’s best to wait a while?”

“No, Clover,” he says gently. “I mean you cannot break the engagement at all.”

Slowly, I lift my head to stare at the man across from me—my flesh and blood, a man who used to carry me on his shoulders and read to me before bed.

“Define ‘at all,’” I say slowly.

Lawrence looks down at the table, saying nothing. He’s certainlythinkingsomething—I can tell from the strange crease in his brow and the angle of his mouth. But what, exactly, I have no idea.

Undaunted by my displeasure, Father says, “King Algernon approved of the union. After worrying about Lawrence’s inclination to take a wife for years, he was overjoyed to learn you two wished to marry. Not only would your separation be detrimental to the people’s confidence in their monarchy, but it would go against his last wish to see you settled together.”

“I didn’t agree to marry Lawrence!” I cry. “Why did no one bother to ask me how I felt about the matter?”

My father raises a brow. “Are you telling me that I have not heard about your desire to marry Lawrence from the time you were sixteen?”

Eyes going wide, I glance across the table at the prince. He’s looking up now, eyeing me with the strangest expression.

“N-no!” I stammer, and then I wince. “I mean, I might have mentioned something like that. But that was years ago!”

Calmly, Father continues, “This summer, right after you and your brothers returned from one of Lawrence’s hunts, you told Gavriel you would make him muck stalls as soon as you became queen.”

“That was—” I cut myself off, changing my mind halfway through. “You misunderstood. I didn’t mean…”

Oh heavens, Lawrence’s expression has turned into a smirk. I’m never going to hear the end of this.

“Obviously,” Father continues, all but ignoring me, “I cannot tell Lawrence what to do. If he wishes to break the betrothal, it is within his power to do so. But for the people, and for his recently departed father’s sake, I strongly advise against it.”

My eye twitches. I turn to Lawrence, horrified by the look on his face.

“You’re certain my father wanted this?” he asks quietly, avoiding my eyes.

“He did—very much,” the traitor-who-shares-my-blood answers solemnly. “Lawrence, you made him very happy the day you asked to marry Clover.”

“Then…” Lawrence pauses. “Perhaps, for now at least, the wedding should move forward as planned.”

I make a choking noise, feeling as if I’m drowning. “Lawrence!” I exclaim. “You can’t possibly intend to go through with this!”