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The morning comes too soon,and I roll over, yawning as I ignore the dawn. When I finally open my eyes to see what time it is, I nearly shriek.

Maisel lays atop the covers beside me, her head propped up on her hand. “I see you’re awake now.”

I sit up, breathing hard. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you—make sure you made it back all right.” She sits up, shaking her head so hard her strawberry blond braid swings back and forth like a rope tied to the back of her tiny head. “Seriously, Calendula, I get no respect around here.”

“Thank you,” I say once I recover from the surprise, eyeing the gnome as I leave the bed and slip on my dressing gown. “For telling Lawrence. We’d likely still be in the constable’s cell if it wasn’t for you.”

“You shouldn’t have gone last night,” she chastises. “I could have told you that you were being followed.”

“Well, then why didn’t you?”

“I took care of one,” she says, mildly offended. “The other three slipped past me.”

“There was another?”

She nods. “I didn’t get a good look at his face, but his voice was familiar.”

“Dalvin or Bendon? One of the brothers who defected to Camellia?”

Maisel shakes her head. “No, I know their brutish tones all too well.”

“What did you do with him?”

“I smacked him on the head with the butt of my axe and knocked him out cold. When I went back after you all were arrested, he was gone.”

That’s…not good.

Pushing aside my panic, I ask, “Where have you been all this time?”

“I stayed in Revalane.” She gives me a sideways look. “Keeping an eye on your commander.”

“Maisel,” I say, pressing my hand to my heart.

“Now, don’t go getting all squishy on me,” she says, frowning. “Someone had to watch over him with that witch in control.”

I return to the bed, smiling. “I’m glad we stumbled into you in the mountains. You’re a good friend.”

The woman’s cheeks turn pink, and she looks away as if embarrassed. “Enough of that.”

“Is Devlin with you? Or did he return to Crevershim Hollow?”

She reluctantly looks at me. “He went back—wanted to tell Gruebin about the king’s death.”

“Oh, Maisel, I’m sorry.”

She shrugs, but I can tell it stings that he left her.

I assure her, “You’ll find someone who’s head over heels for you, and then that will show him.”

Smirking, she jerks her head toward the panel. “Maybe I’ll snare myself a giant king.”

Laughing, I say, “Maybe you will.”

“I’ll help you again if you want to see Henrik,” she says, hopping up to leave. “Don’t go making plans on your own—the two of you are hopeless without me.”

“Again?”