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“You did the right thing,” Maisel says quietly. “She was too eager. Blood magic—nasty business. I’m not entirely sure what would have become of you if you’d killed her.”

I pause. “What do you mean?”

She frowns, studying a water lily bloom in the torchlight. “I’ve heard tales of murdered necromancers rising soulless and far more powerful.”

Her words set me on edge, but I force a laugh. “Sounds like a story meant to scare children. I’ve battled blood magic users half a dozen times, and none of them ever came back to life. Dead is dead.”

“You’re young, Henrik,” she warns. “Do not let my beauty fool you—I’ve lived several hundred years, and I am wise.”

I choke back a laugh and nod solemnly. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Go on.” She motions deeper into the garden as if excusing me. Making the words sound like a warning, she says, “I’ll be nearby.”

Maisel then slips into the shadows, leaving me seemingly on my own. Oddly, it makes me feel slightly better to have the vicious gnome woman watching my back.

The clouds part just as I locate Camellia, and the moons’ silver light falls on her, making her look more like an ethereal faerie than a twisted witch. But her beauty is now repulsive to me, and she cannot conceal the darkness on the inside any longer.

“Henrik,” she says with a radiant smile—the same smile she’s worn for me for years.

Does she think I will dismiss all she’s done? How can she look at me like that?

Has she no conscience whatsoever?

Camellia crosses the garden to meet me, subtly swaying her hips with each step. She wears a blue gown the color of the dark waters, and her pale hair is loose. It falls around her shoulders, soft but no longer tempting.

“You summoned me?” I ask tonelessly.

Hurt flashes across her face, and she pouts. “Must it be like this between us, Henrik?”

“Do you have a task you wish to give me?”

Her practiced expression falters, changing completely. Sounding defeated, she asks, “Are you going to hate me forever?”

I stay silent instead of answering.

When she looks up, she appears exhausted. “Perhaps…”

“Perhaps what?”

She wraps her hand around my wrist, studying her pale fingers against my tanned skin in the moonlight. “Perhaps I could have made some better decisions where you’re concerned.”

Perhaps?

“Tell me what I must do to heal this rift between us,” she begs softly. “What will it take for you to look at me like you used to?”

I shake my head. “There is nothing.”

“You were going to marry me at one time. Surely that must count for something?” She tightens her fingers as she grows frustrated. “Didn’t I mean anything to you? Have you become so jaded you can’t accept my apology?”

I pull my wrist out of her grasp. “I don’t remember you apologizing.”

Camellia steps right in front of me. Emotions pool in her eyes, making the blue glisten like a crystal lake in the torchlight. “I’m sorry, Henrik—I am. I never wanted things to be like this between us. I was jealous of Clover, and I—”

She cuts herself off, gasping back a sob.

I cross my arms and stare at her tears, feeling nothing. “And you what?”

“I wanted to keep you.” She hugs herself, turning from me. “I thought if you had no choice but to stay with me, that eventually, you’d choose me.”