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Maisel shakes her head. “We’re chameleons. We can change into just about any shape we like.”

“Not any shape,” Devlin points out. “Only inanimate ones. We’re not shapeshifters.”

Clover looks intrigued. “More than just rocks and trees? Could you turn into a chair or something?”

Maisel rolls her eyes. “How am I gonna sprout four scrawny legs?”

“So it’s limited then?” Clover asks, looking disappointed.

“Limited!” Maisel scrunches up her face. “It’s more than you’ve got, you scrawny giant.”

Clover holds up her hands to surrender, but her eyes crinkle like she’s holding back laughter. She shares a look with me, her pretty face bright with amusement, and my chest tightens.

“Will you walk me back to my cabin, Henrik?” Clover asks, standing. “I think we’ve outworn our welcome.”

“You might have,” I answer lightly, rising as well. “I don’t believe I had any part in it.”

Maisel narrows her eyes as if she disagrees. Practically shooing us toward the door, she says. “Pretend you never saw us.”

“What are you going to do when we reach Ferradelle?” Clover asks.

“That’s none of your concern.”

“How are you going to get back to Doria?”

“That’s not your concern either.”

Clover looks worried now. “What if you get trapped there? What if someone spots you and tries to capture you?”

Devlin scoffs as if the notion is ridiculous. “We can hold our own against the High Vales.”

Clover obviously doesn’t like it, but she doesn’t argue further. With a sigh, she steps into the hall. “Will we see you again soon?”

Maisel gives her a cryptic shrug. “Hard to say.”

“Fine,” Clover says curtly. “I hope you’re not kidnapped and tossed into a cage. If you are, good luck escaping because we can’t save you if we’re pretending we never saw you.”

She then turns on her heel and strides down the hall. A moment later, she bumps into something in the dark, and she curses under her breath.

Pulling on my shirt, I say to Maisel, “Take care of yourself.”

“You be careful with that one,” Maisel says quietly, jerking her head toward Clover’s retreating back.

Standing straighter, I nod.

“You hurt her, and I’ll hurt you.”

I peer at the gnome, startled. “You’re afraidI’mgoing to hurtClover? Surely you realize the chances are greater the other way around?”

Maisel’s face softens. At a whisper, she says, “Calendula’s head over heels for you, even if she doesn’t realize it yet. Don’t lead her on when you’re supposed to marry the princess.”

“How do you know the king offered me Camellia’s hand?”

“We’ve been around,” she says enigmatically. “Just because you don’t see us doesn’t mean we’re not here.”

On that disconcerting note, I give Maisel a solemn nod and turn to leave.

Before I remember to ask for Clover’s lamp, Maisel closes the door. The thump is followed by the unmistakable clink of the lock.