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And unfortunately, he tells her.

I follow her at a brisk pace, at war with myself. I won’t let her harm Pranmore, but Brielle…

“Who sent the message?” I finally ask.

Camellia spares me a brief glance as we practically run down the hall. “One of my associates.”

“What’s this about?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Has he found a way to remove the necklaces?” I ask her, unable to think of anything else that could put her in such a tizzy.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she snaps.

“What could you possibly need to see him for, especially at this hour?”

“He has something that belongs to me.”

I grab her arm, pulling her back. Quietly, I warn, “Do not hurt him. He is peaceful, and he has never done anything to you.”

She yanks her arm away. “I’m not going to kill your fool deer, Henrik. Not unless he gets in my way.”

When we arrive at Pranmore’s quarters, Camellia jerks her head. “Knock.”

Though I would like to snidely ask if something is wrong with her hand, I do as she requests.

Pranmore opens the door a few moments later. “Henrik,” he says, startled to see me at this hour. His surprise turns to reservation when he notices Camellia by my side. “And Her Grace.”

Bowing his head, Pranmore steps aside, allowing us to come in.

“Where is Mairea?” Camellia demands, thoroughly ruffled now. She looks around, eyes wide, ready to tear the room apart.

“Mairea?” Pranmore asks.

“Hellebore,” she says impatiently, sounding seconds away from bursting into tears.

“You know her name?” I ask, startled. “What’s she doing here?”

Pursing his lips, Pranmore opens a side door. The female elf lies on a bed, unconscious. Camellia rushes inside, throwing herself next to the woman who raised her.

“What happened?” I ask Pranmore quietly. “And how did she end up here?”

“She passed out,” he answers. “Clover brought her last night. Well, Ayan technically carried her.”

“Ayan’s here?” I ask, startled by the news.

“As are Audra and Lyredon.” As if just remembering, he adds, “I believe Audra needs to talk to you. You might want to find her tomorrow.” He then lowers his voice and asks, “How did Camellia discover she was here?”

“Someone sent her a message.”

“Who? No one knew she was here but our group, and Lawrence commanded us to keep it quiet.”

“I don’t know,” I answer, growing increasingly uneasy.

We enter the room, and Camellia turns to face Pranmore. She’s livid, and her blotchy face is wet with tears. “Why didn’t you tell me she was here?”

Instead of giving her an excuse, Pranmore bows his head. “My apologies.”