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“Isn’t Lord Cordin’s land half a day’s ride from here?” Camellia sighs. “I suppose—as long as my retinue is welcome as well.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” our host says in response, stepping forward. “You are all very welcome.”

“Well then.” She turns to Lawrence, clutching Henrik even tighter. “Let’s not linger here any longer.”

As Camellia pushes past us, her shoulder jabs into mine.

I close my eyes, telling myself to remain calm. After all, I’ve dealt with her for the better part of my twenty-two years. I can manage her now.

She suddenly turns around to ask Lawrence a question. The move inadvertently puts Henrik very close to me since she’s still clinging to him.

Slowly, hoping to be covert about it, I lift my eyes to his face. But even when we’re so near we’re almost touching, he ignores me.

Disappointed, I prepare to step away. But suddenly, Henrik’s hand brushes against mine, lingering for only a second.

I stand stone-still, not even daring to move. My heart hammers in my chest, and I can’t help but wonder if it was an accident…or something more.

The commander shifts away, and when I find the courage to look at him again, he appears oblivious.

* * *

Lord Cordin’sestate is in the middle of his expansive land, positioned almost perfectly between Forsten and Cabaranth.

Lawrence’s knights decide we are safer in a group. Therefore, I am given the room next to Lawrence’s, and my ladies stay with me. Cots are brought in for their comfort, though Hyacinth looks particularly put out at the thought of sleeping on something that isn’t a down-stuffed mattress.

But she falls asleep quickly enough, and I envy her for it.

It’s now the middle of the night, and I’m the only one awake. I roll one way and then the other, trying to get comfortable.

It’s a losing battle.

Finally, I sit up. The covers pool at my lap, too warm.

I need fresh air, but there are far too many knights outside my door to sneak out. I could join them, however. Wasting time with my brother and his companions sounds better than trying to sleep.

I tiptoe past my ladies as I pull on my dressing gown, and then I come to a dead stop. A folded piece of parchment lies on the floor directly in front of the door. Someone must have slipped it under sometime during the night. The pale ivory message shines in the dim light, begging to be read.

Glancing into the room to make sure the ladies are sleeping, I snatch the note off the floor. It’s too dark to see it well, so I edge closer to the candle’s single flame to inspect it. It’s not sealed, and there’s no signature. It simply reads, “Beyond the garden, by the lake.”

Anyone could have sent it, but my hearthopes.

I study the handwriting, wondering if Henrik was its scribe. And if he was, how did he get past the knights?

I would be a fool to follow the note’s directions. For all I know, Camellia sent it. She could be waiting for me now, ready to finish me off.

In fact, that’s more than likely. Who else but a mage could sneak past the men?

And even if it was Henrik, how amIsupposed to sneak past the men?

I stand by the door for entirely too long, and then something hits me: we’re on the ground level of the estate.

What will stop me from slipping out a window?

Even though I haven’t made up my mind whether I’m going or not, I sneak across the room once more. As quietly as possible, I draw back the drapes and mouth a silent curse when I spot one of Lord Cordin’s guards just beyond the evergreen bushes that grow right up to the glass.

They’ve thought of everything, haven’t they? Am I a princess or a prisoner?

I let the drapes fall and pace the window a few times, wondering if there’s another way out—and then I have an idea. Determined, I step into the hall.