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The largest of the sister moons emerges from a cloud as Camellia rides to the front line. She wears white, a deceptively pure color, adding to her ghostly appearance. Behind me, my men murmur. For many, this is the first time they’ve seen the princess since she returned from the dead.

Steeling myself, glad to have Pranmore at my side, I ride out to meet her.

Camellia glances at the Woodmore, her serene smile becoming a sneer. And then she turns her eyes back on me. “Hello, Henrik.”

“Is it truly you this time, or are you using a puppet yet again?”

She merely smiles, choosing not to answer. I glance at Pranmore, but he shakes his head.

A puppet then. Even now, she hides.

“What’s your plan, Camellia?” I gesture behind me. “You’re vastly outnumbered.”

She glances over her shoulder, surveying her army, and then looks back. “What do I care if they die?”

“Is this a game to you?” I demand.

The princess smiles. “You already know what this is.”

She rides forward, and my gaze drops to her unsettling steed. Its eyes glow red in the night. Bartholomew was right—it’s a creature of magic, not unlike the blood rats she collected for her concoction.

“Surrender to me, Henrik. Do it now, and I will take mercy on you and your soldiers.”

I draw my horse next to Camellia’s and lower my voice. “I will find where you’re hiding, and I will destroy you.”

“It was a generous offer,” she says with a sigh. “But have it your way.”

The princess lifts her arm, signaling her army to attack.

23

CLOVER

It’s beenthree days since Henrik left. The last update we received said Camellia’s army should reach them tonight.

I walk with Audra and Lyredon to Lawrence’s quarters, my stomach in knots.

“How are you holding up?” Denny asks when we arrive.

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Everyone’s said Camellia’s army is outnumbered.”

He nods. “I’m sure Henrik will be all right.”

But it’s not just Henrik. Gavriel, Colter, Bartholomew, Pranmore, and even Ayan—so many people I care about are out there.

I follow Audra inside. Lawrence sits on the settee, his leg bouncing with nervous energy, looking like he’s about to steal a horse and join the fight.

I choose the chair across from him. “This is killing you, isn’t it?”

He gives me a tight nod and presses his fist to his mouth.

Audra sits next to him, not avoiding him as she used to. “I wish I were out there as well.”

He turns to look at her, and his expression softens. “No one would have allowed it. You’re too important now.”

“I’m not important,” I say. “Why am I here again?”

“You’re important,” Lawrence argues listlessly. And then, as if he can’t help himself, his smile becomes crooked. “Just not as important as we are.”