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I glance at Pranmore. He’s been quiet since Caldwell’s arrival, as if the appearance of the golems is too much for him.

Sensing me looking, the Woodmore turns my way. His dark brown eyes are weary, and I don’t think it’s just because we traveled all night.

“Are you all right?” I whisper.

“I’m worried,” he says quietly. “I thought we found a way to avoid future conflict, and here we are once more.”

I look back at the golem, taking note of how much damage it took before it was defeated.

I’m worried as well.

* * *

The spring breeze smells of the sea as it caresses my face. I stand on a secluded section of the fortress’s outside curtain wall, reflecting on the day’s events. It’s late, well after midnight, but I napped earlier, and my mind is too full to sleep.

Most of the lights were snuffed out hours ago, and only the streetlamps illuminate the dark city now. I imagine the fortress must look like a lantern on top of the small hill. Here, the torches will burn all night, not extinguished until morning. It’s a solemn guardian watching over Heistone as it rests.

I lean against the chest-height stone wall, sighing. Pale light plays upon the sea waves, the twin moons’ reflections distorted by the movement of the water.

“Heistone is beautiful at night,” I say as Henrik joins me.

The commander crosses his arms on the wall, looking into the distance. Though the sea seems as vast as the open ocean, Ryddleport is directly in front of us, only about four days away by paddleboat.

“It is,” Henrik agrees.

We stand in silence for a while, both of us lost in our thoughts. Henrik questioned the port guards this afternoon, but he didn’t discover any leads. As expected, anyone who knows about the golems isn’t talking.

I look behind us at the dark, closed door, and then I set my hand next to Henrik’s on the wall. When I brush my pinkie against his, he turns his hand over and laces our fingers together.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he says quietly. “But I’m tired, and I don’t want to care.”

He then pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around my back and enveloping me in his warmth. Though we’re hidden in the shadows, we’re out in the open. Anyone could see us, and rumors will run rampant if someone does. If Lawrence knew we were being so careless, he’d throw a royal fit.

But right now, it doesn’t matter.

Henrik moves his hand under my hair to the back of my neck, massaging my tight muscles with his fingertips. His skin is rough from years of wielding a sword, the press of his palm as exhilarating as it is familiar. I melt under his touch, my heart blooming in the light of his attention.

Oh, it feels good.

Henrik sends tingles along my skin when he brushes my hair behind my shoulder. He angles back just enough to look at me. My stomach tightens, and I lick my lips with anticipation.

He studies me, his eyes hooded, our mouths so close…

“You two realize we’re at the beginning of a war, don’t you?” a female someone says from below us.

The interruption startles me so violently, I shove Henrik away and gasp in a lungful of cool air.

“I swear, half the time I find you two, you’re canoodling,” the small gnome woman says as she hoists herself over the stone wall.

“Maisel!” I exclaim, gaping at her. “How did you get up here?”

“I climbed, Calendula.” She looks at me like I’m daft. “I certainly didn’t sprout wings and buzz up here like a bee.”

“What do you mean we’re at the beginning of a war?” Henrik questions, focusing on what is likely the important part of the conversation.

“You don’t know what a war is, soldier?” Maisel scowls so dramatically, it scrunches her whole face. “Some commander you are.”

“I know what a war is, Maisel,” he says, exasperated. “What I want to know is why you seem to believe one has already started. The golem was an isolated incident—we’re going to find the rest and destroy them.”