Page 3

Lawrence tosses the last of the bread to the ducks and then gives me his full attention. “Explain.”

“You remember the day Camellia sent me to deliver the letter for Henrik, right?”

Lawrence crosses his arms, and his expression becomes wry. “I remember, yes.”

Trying to convince me to stay, the prince ran into the rain after me. If I’d listened to him, I might not be in my current predicament.

“Earlier that day, I delivered a gown to Camellia’s room. I heard voices from the closet—your sister and aman. When Camellia and Hellebore emerged, Camellia’s palm was sliced, and Hellebore carried a bloody rag.”

Lawrence listens intently, pressing his lips together as he processes.

“I didn’t realize it at the time, but in the message I carried, Camellia said she caught me practicing dark magic. She asked Henrik to watch me—and keep me away from Cabaranth—until she could gather enough evidence to convict me.” I lower my voice to a hiss. “Now she’s disappeared, and lo and behold, there’s a dead body in her closet and a letter that practically confirms my guilt.”

“The body isn’t in the closet anymore,” Lawrence says as the corner of his mouth quirks up in the tiniest of smiles. “We didn’t just leave the poor man there.”

I flash him a look. “What doyouthink it means?”

Though his eyes are sharp, Lawrence gives me a lazy smile. “I suppose it means I was correct all those times I called Camellia a witch.”

“Lawrence, I’m serious,” I say, growing a bit desperate. “If Henrik shows that letter to your father, I’m dead.”

A skeptical frown crosses his face as though he believes it will never come to that, but then his certainty falters.

“What is it?” I demand, taking a step closer. “Have you thought of something?”

“I don’t think I saw Camellia again after you left that day. She wasn’t at dinner that evening, nor breakfast the next morning.”

I eye him warily. “You don’t think… Lawrence, Ididn’t—”

“I know that,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “And just because I didn’t see her, doesn’t mean no one did. We just have to find someone who remembers running into Camellia after you left Cabaranth.”

Dread has already taken up residence in my stomach, but now it begins to grow. Camellia would be careful. If she didn’t want anyone to see her—then no one would have.

The question is, where did she go? Andwhy? I can’t believe the princess hates me enough to kill a man just to be rid of me—which means she must be using me to cover her own crimes. Not only has she managed to make me an unreliable witness, but she’s also tidily disposing of me.

And it’s all because of what I stumbled into that day.

I stare across the water. “Lawrence, what am I going to do?”

“I’ll take care of it,” he promises. “Don’t even think about it again.”

His words should bring me comfort.

But they don’t.

2

Henrik

I hesitateon the path that winds through the garden and ends at the pond. I had hoped to speak with Clover, but Lawrence is with her again.

He’s always with her—and if he’s not, one of her brothers is. Bartholomew, too, rarely leaves her side, and if by some miracle she’s alone, Pranmore always seems to find her before I do.

I turn to leave, but I can just hear their conversation, and I pause.

Clover is either a very good performer, or she’s innocent. It’s obvious Lawrence believes the lady-in-waiting—he doesn’t doubt her for even a moment.

Perhaps he is a better friend than I. Though it might be easier for him, considering he has nothing to lose.