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Did he truly hold me and promise forever? It feels like a lifetime ago.

I wait, silently begging him to look at me. Just for a moment—one brief glance in my direction to acknowledge I still mean something to him.

But instead of Henrik, Camellia turns to me. “Hello, Clover.”

“Your Grace.” I bow my head as is expected, but her tone isn’t cordial, and I don’t bother to pretend I’m happy to see her either.

Her gaze moves to my circlet, and she wrinkles her nose. “That’s an interesting piece of jewelry you’re wearing.”

“Do you like it?”

“Is it one of mine?” She smiles. “Not that it matters. I am happy to share my old things with those in need.”

Behind me, Calla draws in a startled gasp, but I’m too familiar with Camellia to be surprised by her audacity.

“It was made for Clover,” Lawrence answers. “I certainly wouldn’t give her your castoffs.”

Camellia shrugs, easily dismissing the bite in his tone. She then extends her hand behind her, silently beckoning her knight. Expressionless, Henrik steps forward, allowing her to take his arm. She presses herself against him, smirking at me.

“Don’t look down on castoffs, Lawrence.” She runs her free hand down Henrik’s arm. “Some things are more useful in another person’s hands.”

It takes every ounce of my willpower not to lunge at her. I could knock her into the bay before she realized what hit her. She’d probably kill me, but I bet I could get one good punch in first. It would almost be worth it.

Knowing me well enough to sense my thoughts, Lawrence subtly grasps hold of my arm. I tremble under his fingers, so angry my vision blurs.

Henrik, however, doesn’t flinch—he doesn’t do anything. He merely stands there as if bored, not so much as letting his eyes drift to me.

Lawrence wisely changes the subject, asking Camellia how their short voyage went. She is momentarily distracted, giving me a chance to remind myself I need to breathe before I pass out and end up in the bay myself.

A moment later, Brielle joins us. She stands next to Henrik, casting Camellia a wary look and frowning when she sees the way the new duchess clings to her brother. Resigned to Henrik’s fate, the girl’s eyes move over the crowd like she’s desperate to find a friendly face.

Brielle is as pretty as Henrik is handsome, with dark hair and blue eyes that are a shade brighter than her brother’s stormy color. She was radiant when we first met, before she was aware she was being used as a pawn to control her brother, but her beauty is now marred with fear. There are dark circles under her eyes, and her golden skin looks washed out.

My attention drops to her necklace, and my anger rises anew. She’s far too young to be so affected by Camellia’s cruelty.

As I study Brielle, her eyes latch onto someone. Intrigued, I follow her gaze.

Bartholomew stands in the crowd nearby, surrounded by the guard Lawrence assigned to him. Realizing Brielle is looking his way, he blinks several times, subtly glancing around him to see which knight has caught her attention.

She offers him a tentative smile when he looks back, obviously relieved to find someone close to her age in the group.

When he realizes she’s actually looking at him, Bartholomew blushes deep red under his freckles, and he offers her a hesitant smile in return.

The exchange is so sweet, so innocent, it eases some of my anger. It cools my temper and returns me to my senses.

I look back at Camellia, taking a deep breath.

Henrik is caged. What did I expect? That he’d sweep me into his arms right in front of Camellia?

You’re ridiculous, Clover.

I am engaged, sort of, and Henrik is under Camellia’s control. I don’t like it, but there’s nothing we can do about it.

Not yet anyway.

“Are we going to talk on the pier all day?” Camellia finally demands. “I’m weary from the trip, and I would like to rest.”

“Lord and Lady Cordin have graciously invited us to stay with them before we return to Cabaranth,” Lawrence says. “If it pleases you, we will accept their offer.”