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“You should go home and sleep,” I say gently.

Clover doesn’t turn on me like she did when Colter suggested the same thing. She gives me a knowing smile. “I don’t think I could.”

Our ceremony is tonight, scheduled for sunset. It will be a small gathering, just Clover’s family, Brielle, and our friends. Father may or may not come, depending on his mood.

“At least take a few hours to rest,” I urge.

Hiding a yawn, smiling like she knows resisting is futile, she finally agrees. “I’ll see you soon?”

I nod, squeezing her hand.

She breaks away from the group, joining her father and brothers. They speak for a moment, and then she and Colter walk down the courtyard steps with several of the count’s guards.

I want to call her back, keep her close to me. But it’s daylight now, and we’ll be together soon enough.

* * *

I stand at the back of the small castle chapel, nervous but eager. The bishop speaks quietly with Lawrence about the ceremony, and Denny has informed me Clover is preparing in the small antechamber off the sanctuary.

The sun has set, and firelight brightens the space.

Our few guests sit in the pews, waiting. Bartholomew talks with Brielle, and she beams at him, besotted enough the foolish boy should notice. Father has graced us with his presence as well. He sits alone in the front row, wearing the same clothes he wore for my knighting. He’s clean and presentable, making more of an effort than I expected. He gives me a tight nod when our eyes meet.

“It’s time,” Denny says, walking up the steps to meet me. “Are you ready?”

I nod, feeling lightheaded with nerves.

Before he can respond, a trumpet blares in the distance.

“What was that?” Audra asks, her eyes jerking to Lawrence’s.

“A warning,” the king says, already heading down the aisle.

Before he reaches the end, Miguel throws the chapel doors open. “The Woodmore delegates are under attack, Your Majesty.”

His announcement causes a flurry of agitation. Clover bursts into the room from the antechamber, wearing a wedding gown in light green. I take a moment to look at her, a hand fisting over my heart.

I meet her wide eyes, and regret passes between us. We’re not marrying tonight.

Immediately, she whirls around and races back into the room, hollering, “I need to change!” Over her shoulder, she calls back to me, “Go—I’ll meet you in the bailey.”

“If you’re coming, you need armor,” I yell back, wishing I could keep her here.

Knowing I can’t.

“Tell me everything we know,” Lawrence demands as he and I fall into step next to Miguel.

“At least ten golems, along with fifteen to twenty necromancers,” the knight says. “The Woodmores have warded themselves, but we don’t know how long they’ll be able to hold them, and golems don’t tire.”

“We need elves,” Lawrence says urgently to Ayan and Audra. “As many as possible.”

Audra nods, yanking Ayan as she starts across the courtyard that will eventually lead her to the wing where the High Vale visitors are staying. The two break into a run, wasting no time.

The bailey outside the barracks is in chaos. I find Lord Birchall standing in the center, overseeing the madness. “How many men have you ordered?”

“Forty mounted soldiers,” he says, temporarily forgetting his resentment toward me. “Twenty have already left. Shall I call for more?”

“There’s no time, and we’ll have High Vales as well.”