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Whispering to ensure my brother and the other knights won’t overhear, I say, “Do you realize I have to choose table settings for a wedding that will never take place?”

He glances at his knights, jerking his head to dismiss them. They move to the doors, out of earshot but hovering close enough he’s not truly alone.

“They’re just plates, Clover. Bowls and spoons. Don’t overthink it. Just pick something you like.”

“They’ll cost a small fortune,” I argue. “It’s a waste.”

He shrugs. “A king only marries once.”

“We’re not getting married!”

“Have you already forgotten our agreement?” He waggles his eyebrows. “I’m still confident I’ll win you over.”

“Lawrence…”

“Do you want to know another difference between you and I?”

“There are far too many to list.”

He leans in until his lips are entirely too close to my ear. In a silken purr, he says, “I like it when you say my name.”

My stomach knots, and I look away, refusing to let him affect me.

The evil king grins again. “I’m getting to you, aren’t I?”

“My reaction is purely physical, so you’re not making as much headway as you think.”

“I can work with physical.”

I give him a droll look, but that only makes him laugh.

“Choose the table settings,” I say. “You’ll likely use them for your real wedding, so you might as well make the decision for me.”

“You want me to go with you?” he asks, sounding genuinely surprised. Immediately offering his arm, he says, “Doesn’t that sound delightfully domestic?”

When they see we’re leaving, the knights immediately fall into step behind us, and I fear our entourage will grow when Calla spots us. She stands with Barret, looking at the knight like Lavender looked at Pranmore earlier.

“Clover,” she calls reluctantly. “Are you feeling better?”

Much to the knight’s chagrin, she presses her hand affectionately to his arm and then excuses herself.

“A little,” I say when she joins us, and then I subtly nod toward the jilted knight. “You didn’t have to end your conversation on my behalf. I’m fine.”

She glances at Lawrence. “If you’re sure…”

“Go on,” I say. “Lavender is on nursery maid duty right now. She’s waiting for me.”

After a few more seconds of indecision, Calla finally beams at me. “Well, all right. I’ll see you at dinner?”

I nod.

She scampers off to rejoin Barret, much to his delight. As soon as she reaches him, she slides her arm into his and tugs him away.

With a sigh, I realize court is exactly as it’s always been—ladies and knights flitting around each other, people wholly concerned with the next festival—or in this case, wedding. It all feels so superficial now.

But then again, maybe it always has.

And in many ways, I hope it never changes. Because if the High Vales and their insane princess declare war, these trivial things will be of little importance. We’ll be concerned with battle, death count, and how much ground we’re holding against the elven war golems.