Page 57 of Coronation (Royally Forbidden #1)

The corners of my lips twitch. “Patience is a virtue, Dam. While I know it’s not one you’re personally in possession of, surely you must grasp the general theory well enough to apply it here.”

“Oh, fuck you very much. I came, didn’t I?”

The lift is still descending, moving deeper underground for far longer than it ought to, considering we were on the ground level of the bank.

Just as I’m beginning to question how advisable it was to lock myself in such a confined space with my cranky brother, however, the floor beneath our feet stops moving.

The doors open to another lobby, this one smaller than the first, and empty, apart from a single iron door. There is a wheel set directly in the center, and above it, the metal is inscribed with the Ashwell coat of arms and family words. Officium Ante Omnia.

Duty before all else.

My lips twist as I tear my eyes away from it, directing my attention to the set of three old-fashioned combination dials. Behind me, Damien lets out a low hiss of surprise, obviously beginning to piece together what brought us here.

“Is this…” He trails off as I begin to turn the first of the dials. “Am I allowed to be here?”

22–5–18—Click.

“You’re my brother,” I tell him in way of response, lowering my gaze to the second dial. It moves smoothly beneath my fingers, ticking softly as I turn it twice clockwise, once counterclockwise, and settle on the next number .

13–12–19—Click .

Damien scoffs. “Not as far as anyone else is concerned.”

“Well, fortunately for you, I don’t often trouble myself with other people’s concerns.” My hand moves to the third and final dial.

10–12–91—Click.

There is no outward sign that the requirements for entry have been met, but I reach out anyway, gripping the iron wheel in the center of the door.

It turns, a mechanical grinding coming from deep within the door.

When it can go no further, I pull, listening to the quiet groan of metal on metal as the vault opens at my command.

Damien follows me inside, cursing under his breath as he takes in the astonishing collection our family has amassed over countless generations. “Christ. I can’t believe all this. What the hell are we doing here, Ben?”

The walls are lined with shelves, which are upholstered in plush, blue velvet.

Every crown, tiara, or set of earrings has its own specially molded place and is accompanied by a tiny, corresponding serial number.

Under the ever-efficient Arthur’s reign, he saw to it that each piece was appraised, catalogued, and documented for its monetary and historical significance.

“We’re looking for rings,” I tell him as my eyes rake over the vast selection, finally catching on a long, tray-like table with rows upon rows of rings. Without pause, I stride toward it.

“Rings?” Dam echoes. “Why exactly are we looking for rings, Ben?” There is an air of suspicion in his voice, though, and I know he’s probably catching on.

My heart lurches as I stare down at them, slightly intimidated by the prospect of finding the right one, now that it’s time. Zelda doesn’t wear jewelry often, but when she does, it’s never particularly large or flashy. Much of what I see here most certainly falls under those categories.

Damien appears at my shoulder. “Ben,” he prompts, more urgently now. “Tell me what we’re doing here.”

I don’t lift my gaze from the rings. “I’m getting a ring so I can marry Zelda. Tonight.”

Another curse, and in the corner of my eye, I see him scrubbing a hand over his face. “Okay. Well. That’s, ah , a very nice, not at all unhinged idea, but you know you can’t do that, don’t you?”

At the very back of the display, I spot what is—in comparison to the others, anyway—a very simple ring.

The center diamond is shaped like an oval and surrounded by a halo of small, pointed stones, sitting elegantly atop a thin gold band.

My heart beats faster as I reach out to pluck it from its velvet nest.

I didn’t think to find her size, but as I stare down at the ring in the palm of my hand, it looks right.

“Ben,” Damien pleads. “Would you please look at me?”

Reluctantly, I do, closing my fist around the ring. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you? Because, at the moment, all signs are pointing toward breakdown. Listen, I like Zelda , I think she’s great for you, but this can wait!

You have to know that shit will hit the fan so spectacularly if you do this.

For fuck’s sake, think of Leo! He would sooner put a bullet in his head than a crown on top of it. ”

“I spoke to Leo on the drive down. He’s given us his full blessing and agrees it’s a risk worth taking.”

Damien gapes at me. “Ben, for fuck’s sake?—”

“She’s pregnant, Dam.” All the fight seems to leave my brother. He stares at me, his expression grave as the implications of this news sink in. “Yes, there may be repercussions,” I continue calmly. “But they are my family. My family , and I won’t pretend otherwise.”

My brother’s throat bobs as, after an age, he nods. “I understand.”

Yes, I thought he might.

Blowing out a heavy breath, I allow my fist to uncurl, and the pair of us stare down at the ring. The longer I look, the more certain I become that it’s the right one. “This one, I think.”

Damien grimaces. “You’d better check it first. Make sure there isn’t some ghastly piece of family trivia attached before you commit.”

A very good point.

We take the serial number and cross-reference it to the one in the vault’s digitized catalogue.

As it turns out, especially compared to many pieces in here, the ring’s history is unproblematic.

It originally belonged to the wife of a great-great-uncle who died long before I was born.

Coincidentally, the duchess in question was born in India, and the last foreigner to marry into the Ashwell royal family.

Until now.

Before we leave the vault, I manage to find two ordinary gold wedding bands.

I stop only to make a note in the catalogue of which pieces were removed, and for what purpose.

Just the act of writing out the words— given by King Benedict I to Miss Zelda Flowers on the occasion of their engagement —fills me with an excitement which certainly wasn’t present on the eve of my first wedding.

When I married Julia, I hadn’t felt much of anything.

A cold, pragmatic alliance was all I knew of the institution, and all I ever expected for myself.

As our relationship grew more intolerable, I had thought about that a lot, angered and confused as to why any parent would ask such a thing of their son .

I understand now in a way I couldn’t before.

The Crown is a living, breathing thing of its own account. It does as we all do, in acting with a constant mind to self-preservation, protecting itself and ensuring its continued existence before anything else. Love, I now realize, would be the enemy of such an entity.

I love Zelda, and given the choice between doing what is best for The Crown or for her, I will choose her.

I will choose her without hesitation, or guilt, or care for my duty.

I will choose her, even if doing so means burning down the palace itself.

Damien and I are quiet as we make our way up from the vault, lost in our respective thoughts. It’s only when we’ve left the bank and approached the car waiting to take me back to Fernhill that my brother finally speaks.

“I’m happy for you, Ben,” Dam tells me, uncharacteristically grim as he pauses beneath a flickering fluorescent light, staring at me.

My head tilts slightly to the side, temporarily distracted from thoughts of my future wife. “Are you alright?”

Something pained passes over my brother’s face at the question, there one moment and gone the next. “Old sins, I’m afraid. We’ll talk about it another time. You have more important things to attend to today.”

I stare. “By the sounds of it, we need to talk about it now.”

“It’s ancient history. Being in there just brought back some stuff.

” He waves his hand toward the bank building with a grimace, and I know he’s referring to the words that passed between us, not the vault we were standing in.

Then, as if the fact is only just sinking in, he lets out an incredulous bark of laughter.

“Holy fuck, you’re going to be a dad , Ben. That’s mad.”

It is mad, but I find myself smiling too as I step forward to hug my brother.

“I have a plan,” I assure him when we step back, still grinning at each other.

“It’s not a sure thing, but I don’t believe Parliament wants to throw the country into another state of transition.

Zelda has already proven herself to be an incredible asset to our country, and now with the baby…

” I trail off, my chest full to bursting with pride.

She will be an incredible queen.

“Here’s hoping they take after their mother,” Damien snickers. “The alternative is cruel.”