Page 115

When I pull back, he opens his eyes, looking torn.

“There.” I drop my hands. “Now we can go home.”

“Clover…”

Henrik reaches for me when I turn back to my bedroll, but I don’t give in, no matter how badly I want to. Instead, I burrow down into the fleece.

My silent tears are cleansing, and though they burn, I know the goodbye was necessary.

I had to let him go—it was a kindness for both of us. This way, Henrik doesn’t have to choose between Camellia and me, and I don’t have to feel the heart-wrenching pain of watching him pick the princess.

* * *

I carrymy cloak over my arm, dreaming of a bath.

Hot water. Soap. And then twelve blissful hours in a real bed.

It sounds like a dream.

We’re close now. I can see the red roof of the guard post in the distance.

“Are those our horses?” Bartholomew exclaims, pulling me from my daydreams. “Vidnar!”

I narrow my eyes at the pasture outside the post, and sure enough, our horses graze with those belonging to the post's soldiers. They must have returned home.

But the animals aren’t what catches my attention.

No less than twenty knights are mounted, appearing as if they’re ready to ride—and several of them look extremely familiar. I’d recognize their sandy heads anywhere.

“Henrik,” I say nervously. “Why are my brothers at the guard post?”

No sooner do I spot the mounted knights than they notice us walking down the meadow hill. There are several hollers, followed by not three, butfourmen riding our way.

My chest tightens uncomfortably, and my feet forget how to move.

“Why is Lawrence with them?” Bartholomew asks.

Too soon, the men are upon us and leaping off their horses.

“Clover!” Gavriel yells. “What in oblivion do you think you were doing taking off—”

He’s cut off when Denny grabs me roughly by the shoulders and hugs me so tightly I can’t breathe. “Yell at her later,” he says. “Just be glad she’s returned in one piece.”

Colter steals me from Denny and takes me by the shoulders. Grinning, he asks, “Have yourself a nice adventure, little sister?”

“Clover,” Lawrence says, coming forward.

Colter lets me go and moves aside for the prince.

Lawrence’s face is pale with true relief, and he stops in front of me. His mouth works, but it’s as if he has no words. He ends up shaking his head, looking away, and then he lowers himself to a knee in front of me. He takes my hand, pressing my knuckles against his forehead as he clenches his eyes. “You’re all right.”

I glance at Henrik, who looks wary of the situation, knowing he will likely take the brunt of the blame for my disappearance.

“You too, young Bartholomew,” my eldest brother says. “It’s such a relief.”

I look between my brothers, unsure why they all look so solemn—or what they’re doing here at all. “Is there a reason we wouldn’t be?”

“Clover,” Lawrence says, rising. “Something has happened.”