Page 2

From my left, sitting at the head of the table, the crown prince of Caldenbauer smirks as he cuts into a slice of thick ham.

“I do not eat like a horse,” I tell Lawrence under my breath.

The prince and I are unlikely friends, bonded years ago over our mutual dislike of his sister. He’s one of the few people who knows how truly wretched Camellia is.

I suppose if you only have one person who is certain to believe you, it’s not bad that he’s the king’s son.

“Did I say anything?” Lawrence asks as he gives me his signature flirtatious smile, meeting my eyes in an amorous way that has lured many a lady into his arms.

It’s a show. It’s not like that between us, and I like to think he respects me for it. I intend to marry him, though, if I can convince him it’s a good idea. Or at least that was my intention in the very recent past…before I ended up on the fateful supply run to Fort Lintanry.

My brothers exchange a look. It’s the kind that questions if I might actually manage to make myself a royal. They used to be wary of Lawrence, but now there is someone they dislike more—someone who is studiously ignoring me.

Unable to help myself, my eyes slide to the silent commander across from me yet again. Henrik doesn’t look up, but from the way his finger twitches upon the long-tined fruit fork, I think he knows he has my attention.

Except for me, no one knows why Henrik allowed me to join him on the wild aynauth hunt in the mountains—unchaperoned and without a proper guard. My brothers are certainly not happy with him. Oddly, they haven’t pressed me for details. I think they’d rather pretend the whole affair never happened.

Now conscious of how much I’m eating, I nibble at a slice of apple skillet pastry Aunt Talia asked her cook to make, and then I excuse myself from the table.

“Don’t go too far,” says Gavriel, my eldest brother. “We’re leaving after breakfast.”

I nod, tempted to take one last peek at Henrik as I leave the room. But I resist.

I wander the grounds, smiling at the grooms as they prepare our horses in the courtyard, and end up near the duck pond at the edge of the gardens. It’s chilly this morning, though it will probably be at least a month before we get our first snow here in the Winrell province. Beyond the pond, meadowed hills stretch, dotted with towering cottontuft trees that are starting to change color.

A pair of ducks glide to the shore and waddle up to me, looking eager for breakfast.

“I didn’t bring any bread,” I apologize, stepping back when they become pushy.

Footsteps behind me in the worn dirt path betray I’m not alone. It makes sense Henrik would wait until we have privacy to talk—that’s simply how he operates.

“Finally going to speak to me, are you?” I turn, eager for an argument. “How many days has it…”

I let the words trail off, feeling stupid.

Lawrence lifts his brows. “I take it I’m not the man you were expecting?”

The handsome prince steps past me and tears the crusty end of a baguette, tossing the pieces into the pond. Delighted, the ducks waddle back to the water, quacking merrily—possibly gloating. They certainly look smug.

“Not exactly,” I admit.

Lawrence gives me a knowing look, smiling to himself. “Are you disappointed?”

“No.”

Yes.

He laughs under his breath. “Why is Henrik the Courteous giving you the cold shoulder?”

“You’ve noticed?”

“It would be difficult not to.”

“I don’t think Camellia was kidnapped,” I say instead of answering, deciding it’s time to tell him and get it over with.

Apparently, I’ve surprised the prince. He looks over as if startled. “Why do you say that?”

“I think she’s setting me up—trying to get rid of me.”