Page 107 of Forged in Cursed Flames (Crown and Crest 2)

“Where’s Chelminfrior?” Ayan quietly asks Pranmore.

“It’s the land of eternal winter,” he whispers back.

Ignoring them, I nod to Henrik, pretending I’m fine. The commander studies me for several more seconds, looking as if he’s not sure he believes me.

“There’s more,” he says hesitantly.

Of course there is.

“Camellia said she used the blood ritual for a specific spell—not just to recharge her power—but she wouldn’t tell me what it was.”

I sit on a bench next to the bird as the group talks long into the night. Several times, Lawrence asks Henrik to repeat his conversation with Camellia.

No one knows precisely what to make of it.

Audra says, “You need to remove her from Ferradelle as soon as possible.”

“But if she is already married to the duke, we have no grounds to take her,” Lawrence argues. “Instead, why don’t you take this opportunity to unseat Augmirian? If my sister isn’t married to the true duke, she becomes powerless.”

Audra shakes her head. “Knowing what we do about Camellia’s magic, I believe the situation is too dangerous. If she’s desperate, there’s no telling how she’ll lash out. We need to sort out this mess first.”

She’s right. Sorceresses are known to be unstable. I always assumed it was due to the magic tainting their common sense, but now I wonder if it’s not a characteristic of those drawn to the gruesome magic in the first place. Camellia has always been volatile.

Lawrence massages his shoulder, looking thoughtful. “We need more information. For now, our only choice is to play along.”

“We’ve been invited to dinner again tomorrow,” Audra says. “Hopefully, we can learn more then. Henrik, see if you can get Camellia alone again.”

Oh good. More alone time with Camellia.

The others continue to plot and plan, but I don’t say anything. I just sit here, feeling shaken.

Bartholomew ends up next to me. As the rest of the group talks, he turns back to stroke the bird’s vibrant feathers. “You know why Camellia dislikes you, don’t you?”

I turn to the young duke, waiting for him to go on.

He looks back, offering a gentle smile. “Everyone likes you. No one likes Camellia, not really, and I think she knows that. She’s let her anger fester, and it’s made her bitter. She thinks if you’re gone, maybe she won’t look so ugly in comparison.”

I study him, letting his words soothe me, even if I know they are an exaggeration.

“Henrik isn’t going to let her touch you.” Bartholomew looks back at the bird. “Lawrence, either. And I certainly won’t, though we all know I’m not a lot of help. You’re safer in our group now than you’ve been in your life. Don’t let yourself dwell on my cousin’s wicked intentions.”

“How did you grow up so kind in a wretched family like yours?” I ask quietly, knowing Lawrence will give me grief if he overhears. “You have the gentlest spirit.”

Bartholomew laughs to himself. “It’s a curse.”

“How could it possibly be a curse?”

Reluctantly, he answers, “Women don’t want kind men. They want a capable man, or a charmer to speak smooth words that make them feel butterflies. I’m neither of those things.”

Henrik glances over, looking concerned. He’s just close enough, I think he can hear.

I angle toward Bartholomew, lowering my voice. “Because you have comforted me, let me return the favor, even if the words I’m going to speak are not the ones you want. There is a girl out there, right at this very moment, who is dreaming of a future husband just like you. There is a father and mother who will rejoice to bring you into their family because you will cherish their daughter. Stay exactly as you are. What feels like flaws to you are actually veins of gold.”

He almost smiles. “If I were older, would you look my way, Clover?”

I laugh, waving my hand as if the question is absurd. “We’d run away this instant.”

He shakes his head because he knows it’s not true, but at least he smiles. Then he glances at the commander, who still pretends he’s not eavesdropping. “Henrik is a kind man, too. You know that, right?”

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