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She studies me, silent as always, and then continues down the twisting, turning paths. I catch only a glimpse of her face, but she looks gaunt in the light of the sister moons.

“Forgive me,” I say again. “But are you well? Have you taken ill since you arrived?”

This time, Hellebore doesn’t turn. She merely shakes her head.

Afraid I’m causing her unnecessary stress, I don’t try to talk to her again.

I recognize our route—it’s the same way Audra led us earlier. We enter the palace grounds through the side entry, but this time, we take a left instead of a right.

How many times in the past have I followed Hellebore at Camellia’s command? Never have I dreaded it like I do now.

The princess waits in the moonlight by one of the many decorative pools, a cloaked figure with golden hair that spills from the hood of her cloak. She turns when she hears us approaching, and a radiant smile lights her face.

By anyone’s standards, she’s incredibly beautiful. I allowed myself to be blinded by it, along with her title.

Is she a murderess? Was I so easily deceived?

Though Camellia shows no outward signs of the dark magic, she could be using the tambrel stone as I once suspected of Clover.

“Henrik,” she says softly, crossing the path to meet me and setting her hands upon my arms. “You came.”

I glance back at Hellebore, but the handmaid has vanished.

“Your father put me in charge of the rescue party. We’re here to save you, but oddly, none of the High Vales believe you were kidnapped. On the contrary, they say you initiated contact with Augmirian yourself.”

She laughs softly, pushing back her hood and allowing the rest of her hair to tumble down her back. She runs a finger along my chest. “If I’ve learned anything since I’ve been in Ferradelle, it’s that elves gossip like humans.”

“Your father is sick with worry,” I say, the words coming out harsher than I intend. “Why would you do this to your family?”

Her eyes flick back to mine, and she narrows them. “Are you chastising me?”

I soften my tone. “I’m only trying to understand.”

“No one has ever taken me seriously, Henrik. A princess is truly no more than a castle adornment, one whose only worth is grounded in a marriage alliance. Instead of letting Father choose a husband for me, I chose for myself.”

“And you chose…Augmirian?” I ask, incredulous.

“Can you think of a more powerful alliance?” She laughs. “I did what no human king could. I’m finally uniting the elves and the humans.”

Is that what this is about? Power?

“Why didn’t you tell your father?” I ask.

Her eyes flash, and she turns away to look at the water. “I have my reasons.”

“This is truly what you want? To be tethered to the High Vale duke? To produce his heirs?”

She looks over her shoulder, and her smile becomes mischievous. “Are you finally jealous?”

“I simply don’t understand.”

“Oh Henrik, you realize this changes nothing between us, don’t you?” Camellia turns back to me and steps close. “I don’t love the duke, and I certainly don’t intend to give himallmy affection.”

Inside, I recoil at her words, but I keep my face impassive. “What are you saying?”

“Stay in Ferradelle with me. There is no reason for you to return to Cabaranth now that I am here. I can give you so much more than my father will ever offer.”

“A life as your paramour?” I can’t help but ask, repulsed by the thought.