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I turn back to Lawrence. Under my breath, I say, “I’ve had my seal for less than a minute, and you’re going to take it from me.”

“I’ll let you keep it,” Lawrence answers wryly. “You can sleep with it tonight.”

With a roll of my eyes, I kneel once more. “Just get on with it.”

But Lawrence waits several seconds, likely just to drive me mad.

Finally, he begins, “Sir Henrik Solbane, I bestow a great honor upon you today. You will rise from the ranks of the nobility and take your place as a ruling member of the royal class.”

I widen my eyes, silently telling him one last time this is asinine.

Ignoring me, Lawrence continues, “The title of duke marshal is not an honor to take lightly. I entrust my army to you, giving you the authority to command it as you see fit. You will answer to me alone, serving as no less than a brother.”

I swallow, processing his words.

“May the people of Caldenbauer be your guide. Every decision should be made with their safety, comfort, and happiness in mind.” He pins me with a royal look. “Do you accept the burden I offer?”

“I do.”

“Then rise.”

I do as instructed, giving my seal one last rueful glance.

“You look like you’re going to pass out,” Lawrence mutters as he removes the amber pennant and ruby medallion from my arm.

But I can’t answer. I hold my breath as the king replaces my newly acquired seal with a red pennant, along with the golden medallion which states I am second only to the king.

“From this day forward, you are a duke of my kingdom,” Lawrence says. “And an honorary member of my family, even after your time is served and Bartholomew has claimed his birthright.” The king meets my eyes, giving me a solemn nod. “Caldenbauer thanks you for your service.”

I slowly turn, feeling like a fraud, especially when the people in attendance bow to show their respect—and not for Lawrence this time.

For me.

Lawrence steps up next to me and surveys the room. Quietly, he says, “What do you think? Can you get used to it?”

I laugh a little, overwhelmed. “Not likely.”

* * *

Dinner follows the ceremony. I sit with Lawrence and Bartholomew, still separated from Clover because Lawrence enjoys lording his power over us. But our gazes often meet throughout the meal. She wears light green. The color brings out the mischief in her eyes.

Pranmore sits with Clover and her family, but as personal guests of the king, Ayan and Audra are seated at our table.

Bartholomew leans close to me and whispers, “Audra looks no closer to agreeing to a marriage alliance than she did when Lawrence randomly chose her from the crowd.”

My squire isn’t wrong. If anything, she looks like she hates him more. The pretty High Vale stares daggers at Lawrence, piercing her knife into a piece of duck with a little more exuberance than necessary.

Unless Lawrence commands her obedience, it seems Clover and I will have a long wait ahead of us. The thought is sobering, even on an evening such as this.

The night stretches on, and people finally begin to leave. They approach our table in pairs and trios, congratulating me. Some mean it; others cannot forget my heritage.

But now that I’ve been appointed to the position, I intend to earn their approval and teach Bartholomew well. It’s an honor I don’t deserve, but it’s one I will not take lightly.

Count Flauret finally comes to our table, along with his wife and Clover. Immediately, I stand to greet them, nearly knocking over my goblet of wine—much to Lawrence’s amusement.

“Congratulations, Henrik,” the count says warmly. “Caldenbauer has gained a great asset today.”

“Thank you, sir,” I respond, trying to keep my eyes from drifting to Clover.