#Chapter 438 – Coronation Ella

Sinclair and I wake up only a few short hours later, our clothing spread out all over the bed and floor all around us, because today is the big day.

I groan a little when I feel Sinclair stir.

“No,” I murmur, wrapping my arm around him and pulling him back down. Or, I should say that he lets me pull him back down. Because there’s no way I’m strong enough to physically make my big scary Alpha do anything he doesn’t want to do.

But he is sweet, and obliges me.

“I know,” he murmurs, cupping my face in his gigantic hand. “I’m sorry, trouble. But we’ve got to get up and look pretty for our big day.”

“Let’s just go ugly,” I sigh. “Really… lower expectations for the rest of your reign. You can rule in sweatpants and t- shirts. They’ll call you the Comfortable King.”

He laughs, and I can feel him shake his head. “Come on, Ella,” he cajoles. ” Don’t you want to look pretty to match the crown?”

I crack an eye open, tempted. Because honestly, I forgot about the crown. I’ve been very much looking forward to the crown.

There she is,” he

pout. “But I am having two cups of coffee today, which means that that one-” I say, pointing to the

compromise I think we can accept for one day,” Sinclair says, pulling me close. I turn my face up to him, sensing that he wants it, and Sinclair kisses me long and lingering. As

pleasure to see him lead this nation for which he’s fought for so long. When Sinclair breaks

he murmurs, shaking his head at me in wonder. And I smile back. “You’re going

accepting my faith in him. And I let him

each other when Rafe gives a little squeak, wondering why we’ve let him lay alone in his little crib for so long even though we clearly

and I

wants in on the love,” I say happily, crawling away from my mate and getting out of

over to the two of us, kissing Rafe on the head. “He’ll be a Prince, after all, once the day is

the baby, laughing a little. “Little Prince Rafe! Cutest little heir to the

head too and then moving towards the bathroom as I take Rafe to his changing table to get him

day, as predicted,

starts with a great deal of formality as Sinclair leads me into a room that is a strange mix of auditorium and conference chamber, with

stage at the front of the room, the seating is on three sides of it, with an elaborate table on the fourth side of the room and a narrow empty space at the center. Sinclair seats himself at the center of elaborate table, with

in a burgundy velvet gown with a matching cape and Sinclair in a sleek black jacket and pants with a blue sash over the front as well as a great number of medals. I don’t know what any of the medals mean,

all that matters to

dressed like his father no medals, though – and he grins up at me, giving a little squeal. I smile at him, laughing. “Are you excited

letting me know how he feels. A little thrill goes through me, as it always does, to be able to communicate so effectively with my son even though he is so young. And he

to his

up at

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