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Tears prick my eyes, but I scoff, pretending his words don’t hit me so hard. “There you go again—being perfect. You need to work on it, Henrik. As I’ve said before, you put everyone to shame.”

“It’s my one fault,” he teases softly, wiping away an escaped tear from my face with his knuckle. At a whisper, he pleads, “Don’t cry.”

I laugh, blinking several times. “I’m not. It’s just…dusty in here.”

The commander nods, letting me get away with the lie. He pulls me against him, holding me as we take only as much comfort from each other as we’ll allow. I cry a little more, so desperately frustrated that this is all we’ll ever have.

After composing myself, I pull back and find he’s wearing the strangest look on his face.

“What is it now?” I dread his answer even more than the last.

He shakes his head as if he doesn’t dare voice his thoughts out loud.

“No, you might as well say it. I can see you’re thinking awfully hard about something. There’s no hiding it now.”

It takes Henrik a moment to put his thoughts in order. When he works up the nerve, he asks in a hesitant tone, “What if I was a knight and not a blacksmith? If I earned my seal? Would that be enough to pursue this?”

I’m not sure how to answer. Henrik doesn’t usually speak in “what ifs.”

“You’d still lose the chance to become queen,” he continues, “but I could offer you a modest estate if we were to eventually marry. I swear we’d find somewhere that would make you happy, even if it’s smaller than you’re accustomed to. Even Denny said your parents could accept—”

“If I had the crown with me right now, I would throw it into the bog. But how, Henrik? Your seal and Camellia come as a package. You cannot have one without the other.”

“There’s one way.”

“And that is?”

“If you’re right about Camellia, then maybe…”

Maybe Algernon would free him.

“I am,” I say in a rush. “Henrik,I am.”

His face darkens. “Even if you are, I would have to convince the king that his beloved daughter has been practicing necromancy. That alone would be a nearly impossible task.”

“I’ll ask Lawrence to help us.”

Henrik shoots me an incredulous look.

“Hewillhelp us,” I insist. “I know he will.”

After a long moment of indecision, he nods. “Fine, but you must promise me something.”

“Anything.”

A smile steals across his face. “If Lawrence tries to kiss you again, I want you to punch him.”

I laugh, but I’m thinking hard.

“We could just let Camellia marry the duke,” I point out. “If Audra’s right, and she came willingly, then who are we to stop her?”

“I’m not sure that’s the best way to secure my seal,” he says wryly.

No, he’s right. No matter what, Algernon is going to expect Henrik to bring Camellia home.

The only way is to prove the princess is a witch. Even if it nearly kills me, Iwillfind evidence that Camellia has been practicing blood magic. Before long, Henrik will be free from her royal claws.

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