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Studying her, I wrestle with indecision. She’s given me a golden opportunity, but will I take it?

Am I even capable?

I let out a heavy sigh, pretending to be moved by the display. “What is it you want from me?”

She turns back, encouraged by my tone. “I just want you by my side. Nothing else.”

“Why me?”

Her eyes search mine, pleading with me to believe her. “Because I love you.”

“Are you capable of love?” I ask gently, raising my brows.

Hurt flashes across her face. “That’s a wicked thing to say, Henrik.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want, or even what I want. You’re married, Camellia. Have you forgotten?”

Her face scrunches with anger. “I believe my husband’s usefulness has expired.”

My insides coil with expectation, and I know I must tread carefully. Tentatively, I prod, “You told me when I first arrived in Revalane that you didn’t intend to stay married to him.”

She meets my gaze. “I don’t.”

“Why marry a man you don’t plan to keep?”

“Oh, Henrik,” Camellia says with a roll of her eyes. “Are you so naïve? I needed his title, but mostly, I needed his army.”

“His army?”

She sits on the edge of the fountain. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to it—that Father would care about me enough to sign the kingdom to me. Nice and clean.” Her face darkens with true hate. “But the old fool couldn’t do it, could he?”

“So now that you’re the duchess of Ferradelle, you don’t need Augmirian?”

“Of course not. He was always disposable.”

“And you believe the High Vale military will follow their human duchess even after you dispose of the duke?” I ask incredulously.

She waves me over, gesturing for me to sit by her side. “I don’t just believe it—I know.”

“And you plan to wage war against Lawrence?”

“Certainly not,” she says with a bright laugh that’s at odds with her plan. “It needn’t come to that. As long as Lawrence surrenders his throne to me, all will be well and fine.”

“Why would Lawrence do that?”

She’s going to realize I’m fishing for information soon, but she’s not suspicious yet.

“He doesn’t want a war on his hands, does he?” Camellia says. “I know the foolish boy—he’ll worry about the lives of his people and soldiers.”

“And you…won’t?”

Her expression sharpens, and she slowly turns her head to look at me. “There are always casualties in war, Henrik. That’s simply the way of it. But the people should be glad I’m now in control and not Augmirian. He wants a battle, blood. Revenge. I don’t need unnecessary bloodshed—I simply want the throne.”

“Why do you want to steal your brother’s crown so badly?”

She presses a hand to her heart and gives me such a pained look, I sit back slightly. “Animosity has been brewing between the High Vales and us for years, and Father’s exorbitant taxes have only made the problem grow. It’s my greatest wish to unite the kingdom and remove these walls which make us weak.”

I narrow my eyes at the carefully executed speech, far from convinced Camellia’s motivation is that altruistic.