Page 61 of Rise of the Phoenix King (Crown and Crest 4)

“Stop playing, Camellia,” I say harshly, thankful she didn’t destroy the ward.

She rolls her eyes when I stand my ground and crooks her finger, beckoning me forward. “Be a good knight. Come here.”

What choice do I have if I want her to talk?

Slowly, I move forward, wondering how close I dare venture. I stop in front of the ward, my boots almost toeing the faint blue curtain.

“Tell me,” I grit out.

The princess leans close as she whispers, “I don’t have a plan, Henrik.”

I narrow my eyes, backing up slightly.

She laughs again, shrugging. “I just enjoy seeing you scurry to and fro, trying to make sense of the madness.”

“You’re lying. In Revalane, you said you wanted Caldenbauer—that you would unite the races.”

“I’mlying?” She narrows her eyes, and suddenly, the monster is visible in her face. It’s terrifying, a darkness that seizes hold of my lungs even though I’m safe behind the ward. “I loved you. I was willing to give up everything for you, including my magic and life’s work. If you’d touched me once—if you’d so much as bestowed a chaste kiss upon my lips—I would have moved mountains for you. But you deceived me. You broke your promise and lured me to my death. Donotbelittle my heartache. And do not tell me your pain isn’t enough motivation for me, because I assure you,it is.”

“The people of Caldenbauer shouldn’t suffer for my shortcomings,” I say harshly. “Why do you threaten them?”

She smiles again, and the monster slowly fades.

“Because it tears you up. Every woman I kill, every child, and each innocent family I forever separate will bring you to your knees, and that’s victory enough.” Her eyes flash with madness. “I will take the crown that’s rightfully mine, and I will reduce the kingdom that rejected me to ashes. I want you to feel the pain I went through every time you smiled at Clover. The pain I felt when I saw you together in the library. And on top of all that anguish, I want to burden you with the guilt of knowing the rivers of blood that will soon flow are on your hands.”

I stare at her, stricken into silence.

Camellia smiles, and she laughs again. Softly. She presses a kiss to her fingers and then turns them toward me in a goodbye, whispering, “We’ll meet again soon.”

With a flick of her wrist, she shatters Pranmore’s ward, and then she’s gone.

Della crumples onto the floor, and Pranmore and Lawrence come crashing through the door, with Clover and the rest of them on their heels.

Pranmore drops to Della’s side, but Clover hurries to me. She looks up, her eyes wide. “Are you all right? What happened?”

“She’s dead,” Pranmore says heavily, and we all turn toward the girl.

I wrap my arm around Clover’s back, pulling her against me and taking comfort in her warmth. I then look at Lawrence. “I spoke with Camellia.”

15

CLOVER

Henrik finishes relayingthe details of the conversation, his arm wrapped around me so tightly I begin to wonder if he worries Camellia will snatch me away if he lets go.

“So it’s true then,” Audra says to him quietly. “Camellia has a vendetta against you.”

Henrik lowers his face to the ground as if too weary to bear the weight of his head. “She does.”

“Which means she’s unpredictable.” Lawrence paces, as he’s prone to do when he thinks. “If she simply wanted to steal the throne, her attacks would be strategic—we could analyze her movements, find a pattern, and discover her next move. But if she’s trying to cause an abundance of turmoil…” He bites out a curse, sharply striking the side of his fist against the stone wall. If he’d hit it harder, he would have broken bones.

“But what can she do if we confiscate all her golems?” Bartholomew asks. “She’ll have no army.”

“She has her followers.” I glance at the girl. Pranmore covered her with a white sheet, but her presence is still sobering. “Della said she was Camellia’s acolyte. That could mean she was a student, learning from her master. But knowing Camellia and her patience level, I’m inclined to believe Della was an admirer who flitted around the circle Camellia frequented. And I’m sure there are more like her, enamored with the witch princess. Once word gets out that Camellia was powerful enough to create and use the Kivear concoction, she’ll have a swarm of necromancers falling at her feet.”

Lawrence growls and rubs his neck. He, my brothers, and Henrik have all dealt with small groups of magic users, and I’ve heard their stories. The covens are usually ten to twenty people large—an influential leader and his or her apprentices. They’re a headache, but they’re never well organized.

However, an entire legion of them, all gathering en masse to serve their new undead queen? It’s unthinkable.

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