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Maisel shrugs, avoiding Clover’s eyes. “How am I supposed to know what goes through your daft human heads?”

“If you were going to travel with us anyway, why did you leave before we woke up?” Clover sets her hands on her hips like she does when she’s irritated or flustered.

“We’re not traveling with you,” Maisel protests, pointing at Clover. “We’rewatchingyou. It’s different.”

“Does the captain know you’re here?” I ask.

Unlike Clover, I am perfectly content with the gnomes keeping their distance—our ridiculous party is large enough as it is.

“Course not,” Maisel scoffs. “You think we’d declare ourselves to that Vallen fool? He’d shove us into one of his cages and parade us all over Caldenbauer. He’d get rich selling tickets to bored humans hoping to get a chance to look upon real liveDornauths.”

I do not doubt it.

Maisel frowns at my shredded shirt. “You want me to patch you up?”

“I can do it,” Clover says before I have a chance to answer, avoiding my eyes when I look over.

Maisel shakes her head as if disgusted. “We all know you want another chance to ogle his chest, but don’t be such a trollop, Calendula.”

Clover flushes. “I’m not a—”

Cutting her off, Maisel turns to me and commands, “Sit down and take off your shirt. I’ll fix you up.”

I want to tell Maisel that Clover is welcome to ogle me as much as she’d like, but I don’t fancy having the leopard set upon me again.

“Where’s Ulfric?” Clover asks, changing the subject.

She sounds disappointed that Maisel stole her chance to fuss over me, and unexpected pleasure tugs at my mouth, making me want to grin.

And then I catch myself.

Riddled with confusion, I look down. I can’t pretend I didn’t know what would happen if I met Clover in a secluded area of the ship in the deep hours of night, but I came anyway.

She’s my weakness—my one liability.

Sensing Clover’s watching me as Maisel opens a leather satchel filled with bits and bottles, I turn my head to face her. The lady’s eyes widen when she realizes she’s been caught, and then she quickly looks down. Her cheeks blush pink in the lamplight, and she shoves a wayward ringlet behind her ear.

I smile as I look away.

“He’s sleeping somewhere,” Maisel answers Clover. “Made himself sick on mice earlier while I was tidying up in here, the gluttonous beast.”

“That must have been a lot of mice.” Clover looks around the space, suddenly wary.

Maisel grunts as she pulls a small square of cloth from a drawstring bag. She folds it several times and then dips a corner into a blue glass bottle. The tincture has a sharp smell, with a strange herbal tang.

I wince as she wipes the stinging liquid over the scratches, letting my mind wander as I block out the women’s conversation.

Someday soon, and likely in the not-so-distant future, Clover will marry Lawrence. As a sealed knight, I will be hers to command. She will be my queen, my sovereign…and, if all goes as expected, my sister by marriage.

It’s a dangerous situation. Now that I’ve touched Clover, I want more. She makes me want to be reckless for the first time in my life—and the realization is uncomfortable.

But how can I be irresponsible when there are so many people depending on me? Brielle most of all. My sister’s future is in my hands.

Maybe it’s good we were interrupted.

“There,” Maisel says after she’s slathered an herbal salve on my chest. She scrambles off the settee, reminding me of a child as she drops to the floor. “That should keep you until morning.”

“Are gnomes not gifted with healing magic?” Clover asks.