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“What do you know?” Henrik demands. “What aren’t you telling us?”

Ayan shrugs. “Not a lot. But now that you’re aware of what you’re up against, I thought you might reconsider my offer. Let me help you.”

I step closer and lower my voice. “Do you have information about Camellia?”

“The princess?” He shakes his head. “Her abduction was news to me. What my brother wants with her, I couldn’t say.”

“Brother?” Lawrence asks sharply.

I raise a brow at the elf. “Still going with that story, are you?”

Amused, Ayan turns to Lawrence. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I’m Ayanleon Folman Woldervin, illegitimate son of Duke Augmirian Argald Woldervin III, and rightful heir to the Ferradelle dukedom.”

Lawrence turns to me. “Is he sane?”

I shrug. “It’s hard to tell.”

“It’s true,” Ayan insists. “I was in possession of the will—I’ve read it.”

“Where is it now?” I ask.

The High Vale grins. “I don’t have it anymore.”

“I gathered that.” Laughing despite myself, I shake my head.

Less amused, Lawrence turns back to Ayan. “I am Lawrence Telgin Gevaldry,Crown Prince of Caldenbauer.”

Ayan raises his eyebrows as if delighted. “You must be the rogue with a crown. Clover, you weren’t bluffing.”

“Were you talking about me while you were away, Clover?” Lawrence asks, intrigued.

“Only very briefly,” I assure him.

Suddenly amused, Lawrence asks Ayan, “What did she say?”

The elf strokes his chin as if trying to remember. “Something about wanting to have a romantic affair with you.”

“That’snotwhat I said,” I hiss.

“We’ve wandered off subject,” Henrik says curtly. “Thank you for your vague help in the mountains, Ayan, but we require no further assistance.”

“But, Henrik…” Bartholomew says, sounding as if he’s not so sure.

Henrik draws in a slow breath, perturbed by the situation.

“Do you know your way around Ferradelle?” I ask Ayan. “Do you think you could help us rescue the princess?”

“A rescue mission, huh?” He grins. “Is she pretty?”

“She’s my sister,” Lawrence says.

Ayan extends his hands in apology. “Don’t misunderstand—I just want to make sure it’s worth my time.”

“How is that any better?” I demand.

“She’s not as pretty as Clover,” Lawrence says, taking the opportunity to blatantly flirt with me. Then he flashes Henrik a stern look. “But some people seem to be taken with her. They might even go all the way into Ferradelle for a chance to marry her.”

So, Lawrence knows about the promise his father made to Henrik. Just thinking about it makes me ill. It was one thing for Henrik to choose Camellia—it’s another for the choice to be made for him.