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“As you requested, I’ve already sent part of your payment to Brielle’s school,” Camellia says. “I specifically told them you wanted several new gowns made for her and asked them to take care of it. They are to tell her they’re a gift from you.”

“I am in your debt,” Father says, sounding choked up. “All these years… I’ve never made enough to buy her anything pretty—”

Camellia gently shushes him. “My father treated you unfairly, but I am not him. You will be handsomely rewarded for your service to me.”

“And Henrik?” he asks.

“I’ve used the rest of your current wages to purchase the metal you specified so you may make his armor when you’re finished here. Though it was unnecessary—I am happy to provide my knight anything he may require.”

“I wanted to…” Father clears his throat. “Ineededto.”

“I understand,” she says soothingly. “And it will mean more coming from you.”

“I will continue working, Your Highness. The suit should be complete in a few days.”

“Don’t forget to rest,” she chides him. “I need you in the best of health.”

I stand against the stairwell, eyes closed, with my back pressed to the wall, unable to listen to more. Camellia emerges, closes the door, and then secures the latch.

“He has a key as well,” she says wryly. “Just in case you’re worried I locked him in there.”

“Camellia…” I begin, feeling the noose tightening around my neck.

“One more visit,” she says brightly, taking my arm.

“Why my father?” I demand when we’ve left the smithy and have stepped into the night.

“Because he isyours,” she says as if I am daft.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

Her eyes flash as she looks back. “Doing thistoyou? I’m doing thisforyou. Didn’t you hear him? He’s happy! He’s finally making enough money to take care of his children. Do you know how little Father paid him?”

Sadly, I do know.

“Camellia…”

“You should be thanking me,” she says, blinking furiously. “Why aren’t you thanking me?”

I’ve seen Camellia cry for show, but this looks different. It seems…unstable.

“Camellia,” I say cautiously. “I do appreciate that you’re thinking of me.”

“I know you don’t love me.” She wipes angrily at the tears that run down her cheeks. “I’m not Clover, am I? Everyone loves Clover, even you. All she had to do was look at youonce, and you were head over heels.”

“That’s not—”

“It doesn’t matter, does it? She’s engaged to Lawrence.”

“Yes, I know that,” I say, growing testy.

“And soon, she will bedead, whether it’s by your hand or someone else’s.”

I’ve never struck an unarmed woman in my life, but Camellia is making it very difficult to control my temper.

“Princess, I know you’re upset, but listen—”

Her watery eyes spark with anger. “Don’t you dare try to defend her. You aremine, Henrik, whether you like it or not.”