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People fight around us; magic flies this way and that, sizzling and snapping as it lights the space. My brothers are temporarily distracted, fighting the duke’s mages, and I am alone. I don’t have my bow or even my knife to protect myself, but I know Henrik won’t hurt me.

With an expression I cannot read, Henrik starts across the room. Without pause, the commander draws his sword, raising it like he’s going to attack.

“Henrik?” I breathe, stumbling back.

When he’s close enough I truly begin to question him, Lawrence leaps in front of his blade. Their swords clash, filling the room with a metallic clang as the crown prince fights his most loyal soldier.

Before I can make sense of the situation, Lawrence snatches the dagger from Henrik’s belt and digs the blade into the commander’s upper arm. Henrik lets out an agonized cry, and his sword clatters to the ground.

Strands of my hair fall into my eyes as I stare at the scene in front of me. The untouchable commander is on the ground, bleeding, clutching his sword arm. Brielle screams, running across the room to throw herself on the floor next to her brother.

“Come on,” Lawrence grabs me roughly as he tosses Henrik’s dagger aside, pulling me out of the room. “We have to get out of here.”

“You stabbed him!” I scream, barely coherent.

“Hetoldme to.” Lawrence pushes me forward, making it physically impossible to fight him. He’s too large. “And he’ll be livid if Camellia catches you while you try to run back to him.”

“You two planned this?” I demand, suddenly remembering how the two men whispered urgently together before the meeting began.

With haunted eyes, Lawrence turns back to me. “Yes.Now would you stop fighting me andmove?”

“What’s happened?” Bartholomew asks, looking disoriented as he’s escorted by Lyredon.

“But we can’t just leave him here!” I beg Lawrence desperately. “We have to do something!”

“Leave who?” Bartholomew demands, and then he looks around frantically. “Where’s Henrik?”

Lawrence clutches my face, making me look at him. “Clover, listen. We have no choice. Do you understand? We have togo.”

I jerk my head away, realizing we’re now surrounded by more elves. But these ones protect us—and Audra is with them.

“Go, Clover,” she begs. “I’ll help Henrik however I can. I promise.”

Breathing hard, I remember what Henrik said before we went into the meeting room—he can’t protect both Brielle and me. If I stay and try to fight, there is a better chance Brielle will die. And I could never forgive myself.

After one last look behind me, I grab hold of Lawrence’s arm and run for the courtyard with the others.

Twenty minutes later, with elven soldiers aiding human knights, we board a dark ship in the Lagoon and head into the swamps.

“Do you have wounds I need to tend?” Pranmore asks gently, joining me as I stare across the water.

“No.” My eyes burn with unshed tears. I whisper, “Will he be all right?”

The elf is silent. When I turn to look at him, needing an answer, he gives me a halfhearted smile. “I hope so.”

Sensing I need to be alone, Pranmore goes. Bartholomew appears a few minutes later, silently draping a blanket around my shoulders before he, too, leaves me to grieve in peace.

I rub my empty chest as I watch the lights of Revalane slowly fade into the night.

Though we escaped without casualty, my heart remains in the city, bleeding with Henrik.

* * *

To be continued…