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Clover stares at Camellia,looking like she’s about to collapse. If Lawrence were to let her go, she’d fall to her knees in her grand bridal gown. The pandemonium around me fades into the background. All l see is Clover—she’s the only person in the room in perfect focus.

As I watch her, she looks up.

Our eyes meet in the horrified crowd. She rips off the veil that now hangs askew, sending it to the floor. My residual anguish, my fear, is replaced with debilitatingrelief.

Camellia is dead…and I didn’t kill her.

I feel as if I passed a test. I overcame an impossible mountain, and Clover waits for me on the other side. Lawrence has set her free. No, not only set her free—he made her a heroine of the crown.

As we stand here, staring at each other, Clover laughs through her tears. She cries openly, but I rein in my emotion, saving it for when I am alone.

Remembering Brielle, I wrap my arm around my sister’s shoulders and turn her away from the horrific sight. But she wrenches her head back, studying the princess with wide eyes. After several seconds, she pulls her gaze to my face and whispers, “Can I remove the necklace?”

“Not yet,” Bartholomew says, appearing beside us. “Pranmore asked me to tell you to wait until he can examine it. He’s gone to find Lady Ellaine and the other visiting High Vales.”

“But the princess is dead,” Brielle argues, pulling away from me and turning to my squire. With a laugh, she launches herself into his arms. “Bartholomew, she’s dead!”

Stunned, Bartholomew catches my sister, but his eyes fly to mine. Perhaps he’s wondering if he’s going to join Camellia as a dead body.

But I merely stare at the pair, too befuddled to comprehend it. Deciding I’ll examine their friendship later, I join Lawrence, Clover, and the king’s knights.

“Don’t touch her,” Lawrence instructs several guards who have surrounded Camellia’s body.

“Her blood is tainted,” I add. “Only a Woodmore can safely manage the dark magic seeping from the arrow wounds.”

Lawrence turns to me. “Where’s Pranmore?”

“He went to find Lady Ellaine,” I say. “He wants to examine the necklaces before she and the others remove them.”

“Henrik,” Clover says.

I turn to her, meeting her green gaze. But I hesitate before I reach for her, silently asking Lawrence for permission.

With a roll of his eyes, he says, “Go ahead—but not here.Be discrete about it.”

“Thank you,” Clover whispers to the king, grasping his arm, her eyes shining so brightly I might be jealous if I didn’t know the reason for her joy. “Lawrence…”

“Yes, yes.” He offers her a wry smile that’s covering his heartache. “Go.”

I pause before I let Clover drag me away, bowing my head to the king. No words are needed. He and I both know what he gave up for us. Lawrence nods solemnly, and then he jerks his head to the exit at the rear side of the dais.

The moment the door shuts behind us, Clover and I stumble into each other’s arms, too overwhelmed to speak. She clings to me, and I hold her tightly, afraid I’ll crush her.

We don’t have long before we must rejoin the others, but for now, this is enough.

* * *

A few hours later, Clover and I end up in the council room, along with Lawrence, his knights, and our small group of friends. Pranmore oversaw the removal of Camellia’s body from the throne room, and the castle mortician is preparing the cremation now.

Soon, the princess’s ashes will join her ancestors in the royal crypt, and this dark time will be nothing but a bad memory.

“Why didn’t you tell me you put a ward on Camellia?” I ask Pranmore.

“I couldn’t risk the princess overhearing,” he says with a heavy sigh. “I explained the situation to Lawrence after you left, and we decided to keep it to ourselves.”

“Wait a moment.” Slowly, Clover turns to Lawrence. “I’ve just realized something.”

“Yes?” the king asks innocently.