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I nod, now tired enough I might be able to sleep for a bit. My insomnia has been so bad lately, I’ve found it’s been a little easier in the daylight hours. At night, I spend my time staring at the ceiling and hoping I won’t dream of Henrik when I doze. The dreams are too painful.

Instead of leaving, I lay my head on the table, pillowing my cheek on my arm. “Perhaps I’ll rest here for a bit.”

“You would be more comfortable in your bed,” Pranmore says gently.

I close my eyes, already feeling the tug of exhaustion pulling on my eyelids. “I sleep better when I’m not alone.”

I sense Bartholomew and Pranmore’s worry even with my eyes closed.

“At least lie down on the settee—”

Pranmore is interrupted by a knock on the outer chamber door.

He answers, looking prepared to send the visitor away, but he pauses instead, listening to whatever the person has to say.

He then glances into the room, concerned. “Your friends have come looking for you. They’re here to help you prepare for the coronation.”

“Has it already grown that late?” I ask as I straighten, my stomach twisting with apprehension. “Wait…what friends?”

Calla steps into the room with Lavender, Hyacinth, and several ladies’ maids. She gives me a sympathetic look before she frowns at my wind-blown hair and haven’t-slept-in-days appearance. “It’s going to take a while to make you look presentable.”

I sigh, knowing there’s no point in arguing. But I pause as my eyes drift over the additional ladies. Calla and I are friends—I know why she’s come. But I’ve never been particularly close to any of my other fellow ladies-in-waiting.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

Lavender and Hyacinth exchange a look before Calla answers, “Lawrence requested we transfer our duties to you since it doesn’t seem likely Camellia will return.”

“To me?” I say dumbly.

Calla widens her eyes, silently begging me not to make a fuss.

“All right,” I say, resigned.

Perhaps it won’t be so bad. After all, these three chose not to accompany the princess to Ferradelle, and it’s not as if I don’t know them well enough.

Once Henrik returns, I’ll shed my honorary title and the ladies, but for now, I’ll play the part.

“I have an errand to run, so I will now take my leave.” Pranmore bows his head and then gestures for Bartholomew to follow him from the room. “Please remain as long as you would like. You are always welcome, Your Highness.”

I watch the pair leave sullenly. Though I want to call them back and beg them to stay, I’m going to have to get through the next few hours on my own.

As soon as they’re gone, Lavender giggles. “Are you having a fling with the Woodmore, Clover?”

I barely resist the temptation to throw my circlet at her. “We’re friends, you great gossip. And he transferred a life debt to me.”

Looking disappointed, she stares wistfully at the door. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss a Woodmore.”

Looking equally intrigued, Calla says, “Do you think his antlers would get in the way?”

The maids stand in the corner, trying not to laugh. They seem taken with the handsome elf, too.

“I have no desire to find out,” I answer. “If you want to know, go chase him down and see if he’s open to an experiment.”

He wouldn’t be.

Calla grins as if imagining it, and then she primly sits opposite me at the tea table and pulls her long, blonde braid over her shoulder. “What do you mean he transferred a life debt to you?”

I haven’t told her about Henrik—I haven’t told anyone.