Page 63

I steal a peek at Henrik, wondering if he noticed. But his eyes are far away as he mentally moves soldiers into position on the battlefield that is our kingdom.

Miguel knocks on the door, opening it when Lawrence tells him to enter. “The mortician and his assistants are here to collect the girl, Your Majesty.”

“Tell them to come in.” Lawrence waves us into the hall, where we can continue our conversation in relative privacy.

Only Pranmore stays behind. He must dispose of the tambrel stone, though I’m not sure how someone goes about that.

The three waiting men bow their heads to their king and walk into the room.

Lawrence turns to us, looking as if there’s an unpleasant task ahead of him. “And now I must explain the situation to my council and prepare them for the assembly—” He cuts off the sentence, narrowing his eyes in my direction. “Why are you smiling, Clover?”

My betraying smirk becomes a grin. “I’m relishing that I don’t have to join you for council meetings anymore.”

He rolls his eyes and offers his arm to Audra. “But you do, my lovely intended.”

She stares at him for several seconds before she accepts. And though her eyes say she’d rather walk arm in arm with an elgernauth, her flush betrays that she just might be developing feelings for her new intended.

* * *

Lyredon accompanies Lawrence and Audra, and Ayan separates from the group to prepare to travel to Doria to speak with Gruebin. Bartholomew excuses himself as well. He has taken it upon himself to invite the Boermin to the emergency gathering.

The assembly is scheduled three weeks from today—barely long enough to get the message to Revalane and Crevershim Hollow and give the attendees time to travel to Cabaranth.

“Do you think Pranmore is all right?” I ask Henrik once we’re alone.

We walk through the courtyard, heading to the barracks so Henrik can tell Declan to summon the leaders of our province’s mercenary guild. Requests will be sent to Ladora, Dulane, and Ryddleport as well. We can only hope Camellia won’t attack somewhere particularly vulnerable before we can fortify our defenses.

“I think he’s nervous,” Henrik answers. “And he doesn’t want to give us false hope. None of us have ever faced a threat like Camellia. We don’t know what we’re up against.”

“And how are you?” I ask softly, glad we’re alone. The weather is pleasant today, and I roll up the long sleeves of my gown, soaking it in. I’ve seen far too many dead bodies this spring, and the sunshine is welcome. “You know this isn’t your fault, don’t you?”

“My head knows that.” Henrik offers me a weak smile that fades too quickly. “But if people start dying…”

“We’ve talked about this before. You cannot blame yourself for Camellia’s wickedness.”

“I know,” he assures me. “But she’s made this personal, and I’m going to use every resource at my disposal to stop her.”

I glance around, ensuring we’re still alone, and then I flirt, “Power looks good on you, soldier.”

He lets out a soft snort, shaking his head.

“I forgot to ask where your new quarters are,” I say, walking again.

“I told Lawrence I’d remain in the barracks for now.”

I pause again to stare up at him, trying not to laugh. “You’re our duke marshal.”

Looking flummoxed, he says, “Yes?”

“And you’re staying in the barracks…”

With a frown, he says, “I was given private quarters when I became a commander, so remaining there is no hardship. There are more important things to worry about right now.”

And of course he’s right. But I don’t think many in his elevated position would stay with lower-ranking soldiers. It makes me admire him even more.

I pause before we reach the barracks, breathing in the scent of growing life in the air.

“What is it?” he asks.