Page 78 of Throne Off Course

Two days later, Harper knocked on Emilia’s door, coffee in hand.

“Get dressed,” she announced the second Emilia opened it.

Emilia blinked, still in her pajamas. “We’re doing this early?”

Harper handed her the coffee. “We’re doing thisnow.”

“I don’t—”

“You said yes to the gala,” Harper reminded her. “And youalsosaid you have nothing to wear. I found a few places that won’t bankrupt you.”

Emilia narrowed her eyes. “I’m setting a budget, Harper.”

“Obviously,” Harper said, smiling a little too innocently.

Emilia shot her a look and then trudged off to change, grumbling under her breath.

She was still grumbling when they arrived at the boutique, but her complaints died the second she stepped inside.

This wasnota budget-friendly place.

The air smelled expensive. The mannequins wore couture. The lighting was so soft and elegant itprobably cost more than her tuition had.

“Harper,” Emilia said slowly, “what is this?”

“A lovely boutique with excellent taste,” Harper replied breezily.

Before Emilia could make a run for it, a familiar voice drawled, “Ah, right on time.”

Emilia whirled.

Sebastian.

“No,” she said immediately. “Absolutely not. I know what’s happening here.”

Sebastian smirked. “Do you? Because I was under the impression that you needed a dress.”

“I needed anaffordabledress,” Emilia shot back, crossing her arms. “This place doesnotlook affordable.”

Harper clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Babe. It’s already handled.”

“No!I am not letting either of you—”

Sebastian held up a hand. “Relax, darling.Ihave a vested interest in making sure you show up to this gala lookingdevastatingly good, if only for the satisfaction of watching Alexander lose his mind.”

Emilia groaned. “You are the worst.”

“And yet, here you are.”

Harper patted her arm. “Just try some on.Humor us.”

Emilia gave them both a long, exasperated look. Then, sighing, she snatched the nearest gown off the rack. “Fine. One dress. But if I hate it, we’re leaving.”

Harper and Sebastian exchanged a victorious glance as she stalked toward the fitting rooms.

A few minutes later, Emilia pulled the curtain back, the deep green gown skimming her frame perfectly. She turned toward them, expression guarded.

Sebastian, for once, didn’t have a quip ready. Emilia looked good—stunning, even—and for a split second, the thought hit him before he could stop it:Alexander is a lucky bastard. It wasn’t longing, not exactly, but something adjacent, a quiet pang of something he didn’t care to examine.