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It was fascinating to watch. It was magic she had never seen before.

“I have one more thing to show you,” Claude said before heading toward the greenhouse.

Dagmara didn’t object this time. She followed his lead inside the glass room. Inside, was an overflow of greenery, with potted plants dangling from its arched roofs, held up by intricate ironwork between each glass panel. It was dark except for the moonlight, but Dagmara was still able to spot rows of herbs lining the walls, illuminated by the starry night sky.

She wanted to ask him if this was also a false projection, but she held her tongue as they walked into the structure.

Claude led her further into the greenhouse, stopping in a corner with his back to her. “Whoever killed my parents, whoever wanted Ilusauri to fall to dust, wants the same thing for Azurem. I don’t believe they will stop until they kill you too,” he said.

“If your theory is true, I am not safe anywhere,” Dagmara stated. That, she knew for a fact.

He turned to face Dagmara. “After the assassination attempt this afternoon, I will double security. I know you don’t trust me, but I vow to do what I can to keep you safe.”

“Well, whoever it was did poison your wine glass as well.”

A minor detail that made Dagmara question if Claude was really behind all of this. She wouldn’t put it past a crazy murderer to poison themselves briefly if it meant killing her. She just wasn’t sure who Claude was yet.

Claude shrugged. “I owe you for saving my life, and I don’t do well when I have debts to pay. So ignore my previous remarks and stay here where I promise to do my best to protect you. Regardless of what we think about each other, this marriage would help our kingdoms. I don’t need troops from Azurem. As you see, I need food for my people, and clean water, which your kingdom has an excess amount of. And, as I recall, you need medicine.”

With a move of his hand, he gestured to a pallet behind Dagmara that held a wall full of leku. Out of instinct, Dagmara rushed forward to touch the leaves. She didn’t have to pick one to test it, for she could smell the herb wafting from where it rested. These were real. These leaves, only native to Ilusaurian soil and climate, were right before her. She was both overwhelmed and lightheaded at the sight.

“We take special care to keep these alive, despite the famine. You can take a handful and return to Azurem, where I can’t guarantee your protection, but you will be home,” Claude said. “Or, you can sign the marriage contract with me, we can put on a good show for the engagement ball and the wedding, but live our own lives. Then our kingdoms can benefit from what we desperately need.” The end of his sentence was breathless, as though it were a plea.

It was real. She stumbled back into an iron bench and took a seat, pressing a palm to her racing heart. Everything in the greenhouse was real.

But Ilusauri was dying. If this was to happen to Azurem, she would need all the allies she could get. How could the decay be stopped? What if he was behind it, and all of this was some ploy to get her to trust him? What if the destroyed courtyard was the real illusion?

Claude kept his distance as he watched Dagmara seated on the bench. His voice was low, but filled with intensity. “Aside from dropping to my knees before you, Princess, I don’t know how else to beg.”

The king on his knees in front of her? That would be a sight she would pay money to see. She almost asked for him to kneel down before her, but decided not to press her luck.

“I don’t trust you,” Dagmara began, “but I do trust that your need for resources is the motive for this marriage. As you know, medicine is at the center of mine. I will stay for the wedding and see to it that these arrangements are made for the betterment of both our kingdoms.”

A soft smile caressed his face. It was beautiful, nearly taking Dagmara off guard.

“I am honored to hear that,” he replied. “We don’t have to like each other…this can be purely political.”

“Purely political,” she echoed.

“Then I will see you at the engagement ball at the end of the week.”

“Wait—what?” she stammered, standing to her feet immediately. It was too fast, and darkness crowded the corners of her vision. She engaged the muscles in her legs, keeping herself upright.

“I’m sure you can feel the tension between us. There’s no reason to try and make this relationship work if it isn’t needed. We will see each other at the mandatory events.”

Dagmara paused, her mouth slightly agape. Less time with the scary guardian and more time to herself to break into the royal suite?

She smiled at Claude. “Sounds wonderful.”

A rapping at the greenhouse door alerted them both. Claude crossed the distance in swift strides, opening the door to reveal an older man in a dark robe. His wrinkled hands were clasped on a leather bound book, and two guards hovered behind.

“Coroner,” Claude announced, a surprised tilt to his head.

“Apologies, Your Majesty, Princess, but I knew you would prefer I interrupt about this pressing matter.” The coroner’s voice was a high-pitched wheeze. Combined with the fact that he was speaking in Ilusaurian, it was difficult for Dagmara to understand.

Dagmara was quick to realize that even though she and Claude were alone, everyone knew where the king was in the castle at all times.

“Speak.” There was something about the way Claude spoke in his native language that was much more authoritative.