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“Henrik—”

He kisses me, cutting me off, and I wrap my hands in his tunic and tug him as close as I am able. It’s a frantic kiss, desperate and heartbroken.

We spend the night together, clinging to each other, vowing our devotion. If he were any other man, he would likely take advantage of the situation and my heartbreak. But he’s Henrik.

He’s noble.

He’s chivalrous.

And when we wake in the morning, wrapped in each other’s arms, greeted by the light of pre-dawn, there are no regrets between us. No awkward moment where we question our decisions.

Only the memory of this time we spent together, sharing nothing but sweet, desperate kisses, wishing the night could have lasted forever.

28

HENRIK

I return to Camellia just after dawn, resigned to my fate.

The elven guards don’t question my morning arrival, and the sitting room is quiet. Walking through the princess’s bedchamber door, I find her awake, staring at the wall.

She glances over when I enter, looking like she’s cried all night.

“Where were you?” she demands.

I step in front of her, hating her a little more each day. “I’ve made my decision.”

Something vulnerable flashes across her face. She watches me, waiting for my answer, her mouth pressed into a tight line. She looks even more ghostly in the light of early morning. Her grief has stolen the color from her cheeks and lips and left her eyes lifeless.

“I accept your terms,” I say.

Surprise overtakes Camellia’s face. Quietly, she says, “Truly?”

I give her a tight nod.

“You’ll choose me?” she questions as if skeptical.

“Yes—but only if you uphold your end of the bargain. You’ll free the women, you’ll give up your magic, and you’ll break ties with Ferradelle.”

Nodding, she reaches for me. “I will.”

I step back, evading her. “We’re not together—not yet. Not until you remove the necklaces.”

Anger sharpens her features. “I won’t remove the necklaces until Clover and Lawrence are married.”

“Very well.”

I feel like I’ve signed my own death sentence.

“We’ll be happy together,” Camellia promises listlessly, looking down at her hands. “Eventually, you’ll come to love me as much as I love you.”

The princess is acting strangely, more reserved than usual—melancholy even.

I expected her to revel in her victory.

My eyes follow hers, and I frown at her palm. It’s wrapped in white gauze.

“I didn’t notice the bandage last night,” I say.

Camellia looks at her hand, and an embarrassed smile flits over her face. “Oh, this? It’s silly. I became hungry in the middle of the night, and I snuck down to the kitchens.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing, really.” Camellia looks up, meeting my eyes as she gives me a dismissive smile. “I merely cut my hand while I was slicing an apple.”

* * *

To be continued…