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Unusually solemn, Ayan says, “We need to find Camellia, and we need to destroy her.”

“How?” Pranmore asks. “She’s not blood and bone anymore, and if she’s using weak necromancers to do her bidding, how will we even track her down?”

“Canyoutrack her?” Lawrence asks him. “You sense magic. Could you find her?”

The Woodmore frowns. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, Caldenbauer isn’t a small kingdom.”

Lawrence nods. “What about a hundred Woodmore seekers, more if needed. What then?”

“Possibly,” Pranmore answers, but he’s shaking his head.

“We have to try,” Audra says gently, setting her hand on the Woodmore’s arm and earning a sharp look from Lawrence. “Please, Pranmore. Won’t you try to talk to your people?”

“We have no leader,” he reminds her. “We’re not like you with a dukedom. I don’t know where I’d even begin.”

“Our villages have small branches of leadership,” Ayan argues, not even realizing his slip by claiming the Woodmores as his. “We’ll ask them to gather delegates and invite them to Cabaranth. What does a Woodmore like more than a carefully crafted invitation and polite discussion?”

Pranmore looks torn. “What does a Woodmoredislikemore than conflict?” He turns back to Lawrence. “You’re asking us to get involved with your war.”

“It’s not a war,” Lawrence says sharply. “Not yet.”

“Not ever if we can help it,” Audra adds.

Lawrence turns to Audra, giving her a soft smile that’s more telling than he probably realizes. “Invite the High Vales as well. We need to put up a unified front.”

“And the Boermin,” Bartholomew says quietly. “We must include them.”

“Is there a way to send word to the gnomes?” Ayan asks. “Gruebin should be invited as well.”

The idea of bringing representatives from the five high races of Caldenbauer under one roof is daunting at best. But slowly, plans are formed.

“If we knew where Camellia planned to attack first, we could strengthen the guard,” Lawrence says. “But we can’t send extra men to every city and village in Caldenbauer.”

“We’d stretch ourselves too thin,” Henrik agrees. “But do we have a budget to temporarily hire extra men to guard the more vulnerable communities?”

“Mercenaries?” Bartholomew asks.

Henrik nods.

Lawrence thinks about the idea. “Where are you thinking of placing them?”

“Sherling is large, but it has no wall,” Henrik says, thinking. “Summer Summit only has a constable and a guard who’s contemplated retirement for a year. There are more.”

The king nods. “We can also recruit local men—put notices up in the town squares and such.”

“What will they receive in return?” Ayan asks.

“The opportunity to protect their people,” Henrik says as if the elf is daft.

Ayan laughs, casting his eyes toward the ceiling. “Not everyone is so heroically motivated, Henrik.”

“We can pay them,” Lawrence says. “Not at the rate we’ll hire experienced sellswords, but certainly something. My father left me woefully unprepared for this mess, but he didn’t leave me destitute.”

“Glad to hear all the exorbitant shipping taxes we’ve handed over will be used for something worthwhile,” Audra says sweetly.

Lawrence flashes her an amused look. “Do you think we could talk about trade agreements another day?”

“I suppose,” the elf says airily, but her eyes catch on the king’s, and she looks…ensnared. And while she doesn’t appear particularly happy about it, the spark of attraction is there all the same.