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I steal just a few hours of sleep before sunup, and then it’s time to move. The next day passes in a blur of travel. We don’t get out of Heistone until midday, which forces us to stop at an inn at dusk. Though no one knows much about what monster Camellia has turned herself into, Henrik said blood magic is always strongest after nightfall.

It’s now afternoon the following day, and we’re finally back in Cabaranth. We’ve delivered Barret’s body to the morgue and told Lawrence our story. All I want is my bed, but I doubt I’ll have a chance to visit it anytime soon.

The king’s eyes go between the two notes, his face grim. He sits back in his chair at the table in his council room. It’s just our close group of friends, along with his sealed knights.

After several seconds, he asks, “What does she want?”

“Power,” Audra answers. “What else?”

My eyes move to the note written in blood, remembering the way it was fixed to Barret’s body like he was a package wrapped with care.

“But why announce herself?” Lawrence asks. “The element of surprise was on her side. If she’s hoping to take the kingdom, why would she give that up?”

“And why was the letter specifically addressed to Henrik?” Bartholomew asks. He looks better now, not quite as pale. We’ve all had a little time for the gruesome news to soak in.

Lawrence taps his fingers on the table next to the notes, deep in thought.

“Did you recover any other golems?” Lawrence asks Henrik.

“We did not,” Henrik reluctantly admits. “I felt bringing this information to you was a priority. But I have instructed Lord Yorgin to continue the search. His soldiers are combing Heistone as we speak.”

Lawrence nods, satisfied. “Take several men and arrest the necromancer in the city, the one Camellia had dealings with. Perhaps he will be able to tell us something.”

“The one who supplied Camellia’s ingredients?” I ask, remembering the old man. He has a legitimate-enough apothecary shop, but he sells to a different clientele after hours.

“That’s right,” Lawrence confirms. “Do it before he runs.”

“It’s possible he took off the moment he heard Camellia died,” I point out.

Henrik rolls his stiff neck. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

Lawrence ends our impromptu meeting, and the commander and I split off from the others.

“How are you?” I ask Henrik, glancing down the hall to see if we’re alone.

But we’re not. We rarely are.

Henrik runs his hand through his thick hair. “I’m not sure.”

The problem is no one truly knows what the princess wants. If you’re going to take a potion to prevent death, surely you have some purpose for it.

“You should stay here and try to get some rest,” he says. “I’ll find you when I return.”

I want to tell him I’ll come along, but I’m weary, and I’ll be little help in this state. I didn’t get much sleep in the inn—how could I after what Henrik and I saw? But the night could have been worse. I shared a room with Maisel and her rock leopard, and I was glad for their company. It was better than spending the night alone.

The gnome woman traveled with us, keeping to the greenery and tall grass where the soldiers accompanying us wouldn’t spot her. She warned me she would go north when we neared Cabaranth to take the news to Gruebin and the rest of the gnomes in Crevershim Hollow, and I haven’t seen her since. At least she shared her plans this time. Too often, she simply up and disappears.

“I might take a nap,” I say. “I’m going to have to console Calla soon too. I’m just hoping we have a few hours before the news of Barret’s death reaches her.”

Henrik’s hand moves, looking like he wants to reach for me. Of course he can’t, not here in the hallway. “Sleep first.”

“Be careful, all right?”

He nods.

“Are we going now?” Bartholomew asks, materializing next to us.

Henrik’s eyes betray his reluctance to leave me, but he nods.