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“Pranmore,” I say carefully, keeping my voice low. “Are you certain…?”

He sits near the High Vale’s side and softly whispers, “Mairea? Are you still with me?”

She opens her eyes, her dead gaze meeting his. “Ayanleon.” She draws in a stuttering breath. “I want to see my son.”

Lawrence jerks when he hears her broken voice, just as startled as I was when I first heard it.

“We can make that happen,” Lawrence says when he recovers. “In exchange for information.”

Contempt and desperation mingle in her expression, but she nods. “Anything.”

Lawrence asks me, “Can you find Ayan?”

“I’ll track him down.”

Pranmore takes Mairea’s hand, shuddering when he makes contact. He then turns to me and quietly says, “You best hurry.”

I leave the room, my mind reeling. What secrets can the woman tell us, and will she? It sounded as if she orchestrated her revenge on Augmirian’s family through Camellia.

Did she raise the princess to become her personal weapon, planning this from the time the queen died? Has Camellia been a pawn all these years?

Camellia was so young when her mother passed away. If King Algernon had been more attentive, if he’d drawn his daughter closer instead of pushing her away, would things be different now?

I find myself outside Clover’s door, hoping she might know where I can find Ayan. Her guard watches me approach, his eyes growing wide with terror when he realizes I mean to stop.

“Commander,” he says with a peep. “Perhaps you don’t know about the rumors, but it might be best to—”

“Come in with me if you believe Her Highness needs a chaperone. I simply need to ask her a question.”

Slowly, he nods. “One of her ladies arrived a few minutes ago, but I’m not sure Her Highness is awake yet. She returned very late last night.”

Turning, he knocks on the door.

A few moments later, Calla answers. The lady-in-waiting’s eyes brighten when she spots me. “Henrik!”

“Good morning, Lady Calla.” I bow my head. “I’m sorry for calling so early, but I must ask Clover a question.”

“Of course—come in.” She flutters her hands as I enter, and I try to pretend I don’t notice she’s still in her dressing gown. “Let me fetch her.”

A few moments later, Clover appears. She looks tired, with her honey-brown hair disheveled and her eyes sleepy. There’s a softness about this early morning version of the woman, and I grow warm. I think of the way she kissed me last night—of the words we exchanged.

“Henrik,” she exclaims, holding back a yawn and then laughing. Though it’s obvious she’s surprised to find me, she smiles like I’m very welcome. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for Ayan,” I say. “Do you know what part of the castle he and Audra are staying in?”

“I’ll take you—oh.” She winces. “I can’t do that, can I?”

Camellia won’t be pleased if news reaches her that we roamed the castle halls together, especially at this strange, quiet hour.

“Shall I fetch him for you?” she asks. “It will be easier than trying to explain where they’re at.”

I’m already turning toward the door. “Bring him to Pranmore’s quarters. Tell Audra and Lyredon to come as well.”

“What’s happened?” she asks. “Did Hellebore wake up?”

“She did.”

“Wait—how did you find out?” Then she hurries away and calls over her shoulder, “Never mind, you can explain later. I’m going to get dressed.”