Page 18 of Forged in Cursed Flames (Crown and Crest 2)

Even if she wanted to, how would Camellia know what they were plotting?

Unless it wasn’t about Clover, and the lady-in-waiting was truly just a convenient scapegoat. What if Camellia wasn’t kidnapped, as Clover believes, but is cooperating with the High Vales?

But what purpose would that serve? How would she benefit from that arrangement? And I believe I know Camellia well enough to say with confidence she wouldn’t want to marry the High Vale duke.

Though I’ve never laid eyes on the man, he has a reputation. Word has it he’s unusually short for an elf, with large ears and a larger nose.

Some women may not be superficial, but Camellia isn’t one of them. I cannot believe she walked into that willingly.

I lean against a stall door, lost in my thoughts long after Cortana leaves.

“Henrik?” Bartholomew says, turning the corner and finding me. “Everyone is ready to go. Is there anything I can do to help you finish up?”

“I’m ready.” I push away from the stall.

“Have you figured out how we’re going to navigate Ferradelle?”

I shake my head as we join Clover, Pranmore, and Lawrence. “We’ll make do.”

“It’s too bad we don’t have a guide,” Bartholomew muses. “A High Vale loyal to my uncle would be an ideal man to join us.”

Lawrence casts his cousin a look. “There is no High Vale like that in all of Caldenbauer.”

Bartholomew begins to answer, but I interrupt him when I catch the strange expression on Clover’s face. “What is it?”

She winces, which already tells me she knows I’m not going to like what she’s about to say.

“There might be one elf…” she answers slowly. “Someone we met recently.”

“Who?” I ask at the same time Pranmore says, “No.”

Ignoring me, Clover turns to Pranmore. “Can you think of another High Vale who would know his way around Ferradelle and might be willing to guide us?”

“Who are you talking about?” I demand, but Iknow.I’m just hoping I’m wrong.

“Ayan, the thrall we met in Crevershim Hollow—” Clover cuts herself off when she remembers Lawrence knows nothing of the mountain-dwelling gnomes—and we promised them we’d keep it that way.

I immediately dismiss the notion. “Even if I wanted to seek his help—which I don’t—he’s too far away. It would take at least a week to travel to him on horseback, and who knows if we’d even find him once we were there.”

Before, we only stumbled on the gnome village by accident.

Again, Bartholomew tries to speak. “Well, actually—”

“You’re right,” Clover says with a nod, looking almost relieved. “I’m sure he’d be more trouble than he was worth anyway.”

“About that. He’s—” Bartholomew says, only to be cut off by a guard who appears at my side.

“Commander?” the man says.

I’m pleased by the interruption. Ayan proved moderately helpful in the mountains, but I certainly don’t want to put up with him all the way to Ferradelle.

“There’s a man asking for you and Clover,” the guard continues, and a frown spreads across his face.

“A man?” Clover asks, surprised. “Specifically asking for Henrik and me?”

The guard’s eyes go between us, and then he nods. “He’s a High Vale, my lady. Said he met you in the mountains.”

I stare at the guard blankly, fighting the urge to laugh.

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