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She looks back before she heads for the balcony. “Who do you think slipped the note under your door in Lord Cordin’s estate?”

“That wasyou?”

“Take care of yourself, Calendula.” She then slips through the door and disappears.

* * *

“The prisoners talked,”Miguel informs Lawrence. “They pledged their loyalty to Camellia before she left Cabaranth to marry Augmirian.”

We’re in the hall, on our way to breakfast with Lawrence’s knights. Lawrence pauses to give Miguel his full attention. “Why did they attack Henrik?”

Miguel looks uncomfortable. Avoiding his friend’s eyes, he says, “They followed Clover.”

I cringe, glancing at Lawrence to gauge his reaction. He gives me a condescending, “What did I tell you?” look that I probably deserve.

Miguel continues, “If Henrik hadn’t stopped them, they would have taken Clover to Camellia and told the princess about Henrik’s treachery.”

“He didn’t deal with them singlehandedly,” I say, wanting a little credit.

“So that’s why Camellia’s here?” Lawrence asks, ignoring me. “She’s after Clover?”

Denny scowls at me, just as angry as Lawrence that I slipped my guard last night.

“According to them, they acted on their own,” Miguel answers. “Word has spread that Camellia commanded Henrik to go after Clover in Revalane, so those who are loyal to your sister—”

“We get it,” I interrupt. “I’m a prize goose for the princess’s table.”

Just what, exactly, does she intend to do with me anyway? And what did I ever do to earn so much of her wrath?

“How many of my men are loyal to Camellia?” Lawrence demands.

“It’s impossible to know how many she won over before she left Cabaranth.”

“Surely not that many,” Xander argues, joining the conversation for the first time. The quiet knight usually keeps to himself, listening more than adding his own opinions.

Miguel turns to the knight. “It’s better to err on the side of caution. From now on, we must be suspicious of anyone who comes close to Lawrence or Clover.”

Xander gives him a solemn nod, respecting the senior knight.

We reach the dining room, and I hesitate before I walk inside. It’s an intimate breakfast, with only those close to the king attending.

But Camellia will be here, along with her esteemed companions and Henrik.

“What’s wrong?” Lawrence asks, pausing next to me.

“Nothing,” I answer quickly.

Together, we walk in. I breathe a sigh of relief when I spot Brielle next to her brother. She’s all right.

I’m less pleased when I see Henrik is seated at Camellia’s right, not standing behind her as her knight, but filling the place of a consort. Her hand is on his arm as if she cannot bear to spend a moment without touching him.

She catches me looking, and a satisfied smile spreads over her face. Quickly averting my eyes, I pretend not to notice as Lawrence leads me to the head of the table.

Dalvin and Bendon, the two brothers who openly turned traitor and remained in Ferradelle with Camellia, stand at the back wall with a mix of elven and human guards, looking moderately uncomfortable in the presence of Lawrence and his knights—as they should.

But the pair is no great loss. Neither can shoot, and only Bendon is moderately talented with a blade. Though I will admit they’re better with their fists, they’re both large and somewhat stupid, and to be honest, I’ve never liked them much. Camellia can have them.

But their presence reminds me of the men who attacked us.