Page 5

Her worried expression softens. “Much can change in five months, Henrik. Lawrence doesn’t seem like the type to commit to forever.”

“He’s not the type to commit for aweek.”

Slowly, she releases my arm and drops her voice. “Should I have kept it to myself? Will it distract you from your mission?”

I shake my head curtly. “It will not.”

The elven noblewoman looks around again, this time to make sure we are alone. “Have you overheard anything about my cousin’s plans?”

“Nothing we don’t already know.”

“Any mention of Ayan?”

“No.”

Looking pensive, she nods. “We’ve hidden him well.”

Lady Elaine, Audra’s mother and the late duke’s sister, planned to reveal Ayan at the council meeting that was held a week ago, but she decided to wait in light of recent events. Camellia’s magic makes her unpredictable and dangerous. We need more information before we can remove Augmirian from his place of power.

Thoughtfully running her fingers through her hair, Audra says, “Has Camellia said anything about the necklaces?”

“She’s being cautious with the information she shares.”

Especially information about the deadly charmed necklaces she gave to the elven noblewomen and my sister. Camellia is well aware that I remain by her side for my sister’s sake alone. The moment I find a way to remove the necklace, I will steal Brielle away from Revalane and gladly give Lawrence any information I have collected.

Although Camellia may hold my lead, I am not loyal to the murderous princess.

“She’ll let her guard down eventually,” Audra assures me. “Do everything in your power to win her trust. You must get her to confide in you.”

“I will,” I promise.

But there are limits to my dedication. Camellia would likely tell me everything if I were to enter into a relationship with her—she’s made that more than clear.

But I won’t betray Clover, even if she’s promised to Lawrence.

Five months.

It’s plenty of time to learn Camellia’s secrets, escape to Cabaranth with my sister, and convince Lawrence to call off the wedding.

It has to be.

* * *

“You look like death,”Maisel says when I step into my quarters.

The gnome woman sits in her favorite chair by the sleeping hearth, knitting an ugly tunic she’s been working on for weeks. She’s so short her feet only extend just past the cushion, making her look like a tiny child.

But looks are deceiving. The Dorian gnome is a warrior—and a spiteful one at that.

“Why are you still here?” I sigh as I sit in the chair next to her, being careful to give the rock leopard at her feet plenty of room. Ulfric lifts his head and glares at me before he stretches his legs, showing off his claws, and then he goes back to sleep.

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you, you traitorous git.” Maisel hops from the chair and pauses in front of me. “Try it on.”

I eye the tunic. “I’m not wearing that.”

“You’ll wear it if I tell you to wear it. Now stop your fussing and put it on.”

“It’s sweltering hot. What do I need with it?”