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As Henrik reads it, he clenches his hand, crushing the parchment in his fist.

“No,” he says when I attempt to take it from him, his voice surprisingly gentle considering how his hand shakes with anger.

“It’s all right,” I whisper, gently prying his fingers open.

Lawrence watches us, saying nothing.

I read the note, and a chill goes down my spine. “This was sent to Pranmore’s village?”

“It was meant for me,” Henrik says darkly.

Again, I read the message, penned in Camellia’s careful handwriting.

I’ll destroy everything you love.

“Death didn’t do anything to improve her disposition,” I say weakly, trying to lighten the moment.

“It might have been a message for Pranmore,” Lawrence finally says. “He placed the mind ward that ended up being Camellia’s undoing.”

Though the princess would likely be all too happy to torture Pranmore as well, I don’t believe he’s the intended recipient. These brief notes are bizarrely intimate—they reek of unrequited love.

“So let me get this straight,” Ayan says after he scans the second parchment and hands them both to Audra. “We’re dealing with a spiteful, undead princess whose apparent goal is to enact revenge upon her former lover?”

“It seems that way,” Lawrence says. “And she just happens to have control of a golem army.”

“Henrik and Camellia were never together,” I snarl at Ayan, my skin crawling at the thought.

Ignoring me, Ayan says to Henrik, “I’ve angered my fair share of women, but none have ever come back from the dead to haunt me.” He presses a hand to his heart. “You have my respect and condolences.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“The men helping her are alive,” Audra says, steering the conversation back. “She must have made alliances before she died. If you can find their leader, perhaps we can cut off the head of the snake.”

“We need to add more men to the search,” Henrik agrees. “Let’s end this quickly.”

“My army is yours to command,” Lawrence says. “I trust your judgment.”

Henrik looks daunted, still unused to the fate of so many resting on his shoulders, but he nods.

“But what does Camellia have to do with the necromancer in Pranmore’s quarters?” Audra asks.

“We need to talk to Pranmore again,” Lawrence says. “Let’s see if the woman is awake yet.”

“Lyredon and I will go,” Audra says to Lawrence. “It’s not safe for you to be that close to a practicing necromancer, even warded.”

He raises his eyebrows, flashing her a flirtatious look. “Why, Lady Audra, are you concerned about my welfare?”

She crosses her arms. “Unfortunately, you’re our king, and I’ve sworn my allegiance to the crown.”

Lawrence gives her a wolfish smile. “I’m growing on you, aren’t I?”

The High Vale turns to Henrik. “You’re second in command now. If we let him run to his death, will you become king?”

Lawrence laughs. “The crown follows bloodline, not rank. Bartholomew is still my heir.” He smirks. “At least until you and I have a son.”

Looking vexed, she turns to Bartholomew. “It’s a shame you’re not older.”

Bartholomew looks bewildered.