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“Go tell the king I heard everything he had to say,” Dagmara stated. “He made himself clear this afternoon.”

“Princess—”

“Please, Martine,” Dagmara said. “Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

With a nod, Martine turned and left the room.

Urszula wore an expression of shock. “This won’t end well. He will find you.”

“I know, so we have to leave right now.” Dagmara rose from the bed and began filling the pockets of her dress with her most important potions. She slipped a few throwing stars into the slot on her corset, letting them hide behind the thick binding. She continued to instruct Urszula as she pulled on new gloves, hiding the wound from the first day on the balcony once more, “Grab whatever you can and get down to the stables. I have to get something first.”

“No, you need to come with me. They won’t let me go alone.”

“I can’t leave without something important,” Dagmara stated. “Please.”

After a few moments passed, Urszula finally nodded. “Hurry.”

Following her instincts, Dagmara retraced her steps back to the terrace. It was one of the few places she was allowed to go in this castle, so she knew the way well enough. It had taken the remainder of the afternoon to pack, so the sun had set, leaving only the moonlight to guide her. The king gave her permission to leave, and she was taking it. She would have to find proof about his involvement some other way. It wouldn’t matter if she ended up dead or if Sabien revealed who she really was. Now that Sabien was here, there were a lot more things that could go wrong.

Once outside, she spotted the leku plant. The only guards in sight were in the yard in the distance. Perfect. Dagmara skipped down the terrace stairs and dropped to her knees in front of the herb, marveling at its beauty. She had never seen so much in one place before. How dare he horde it all for himself.

She reached out to pluck a few strands. As soon as she picked one, it evaporated in her grasp. Shaken, she tried again, only to receive the same result. Was she going crazy? She picked another bush and plucked a stem, and yet within a blink of an eye, it was no longer in her gloved hand. She couldn’t believe it. Using both arms, she scooped up full handfuls, yanking them from the earth. She could feel them in her palms for a moment before they dissipated once more.

“Taking a souvenir home with you?”

In one swift motion, Dagmara stood and whirled to face the voice. Her whole body tensed upon seeing the king. He didn’t have the same malice in his face as he did the last time she saw him, but he frightened her to the core.

“Is this a trick?” Dagmara gestured to the ground.

“You know, I’ve never been denied when I request to see someone,” Claude said, his expression stoic. He continued, “You would be the first.”

“Maybe it’s good for you to be turned down once in a while,” Dagmara replied, unable to quell her fear. She was like a caged tiger lashing out at anything she could between the bars. “Now answer my question.”

“You continue to surprise me, Princess. Walk with me.” He turned toward the palace once more.

“No,” Dagmara stated, nearly stamping her foot on the ground in protest. “Answer me first.”

He paused to glance over his shoulder. “You know the answer already. But walk with me, and I will explain.”

Deep down, Dagmara knew why the leku had evaporated, but she wished it weren’t true. She wanted to go with him. There was something that drew her toward him whether it was curiosity or something else. If he was about to walk her to her death, so be it.

Letting out a sigh, she began to walk beside him, not missing the faint smile that crossed his lips.

“First I want to discuss what happened earlier,” Claude said, much to Dagmara’s surprise. He paused as they passed through a set of guards that were holding the castle doors open. “I am intrigued about how you saved my life,” Claude continued. “That was supposed to be my job.”

Dagmara suppressed her expression as they rounded the corner, heading down the north wing. Why was he being so kind to her? Suspicion gnawed inside her.

They walked side-by-side in the reflective hallway, passing through the row of sparkling mirrors—suddenly images of Claude flashed on all sides, even though he was right beside her. This, Dagmara knew, wasn’t an illusion. If he hadn’t been leading her through the expansive maze, she was convinced she would never find the exit.

“How did you know the wine was poisoned?” Claude asked.

That was the question she didn’t know how to answer without giving herself away. Besides, she still didn’t know why she saved him. Was it just instinct?

“It was the pitcher, Your Majesty.”

“The pitcher?”

“It had a compartment I saw, and I assumed the worst.”