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Hawthorn didn’t watch.
This is part of his plan, this is all just part of his plan—
Because there was no way he came back for her, or even his mother. He wasn’t that foolish. He was supposed to be selfish—
Be selfish,she begged him.Just for a minute. Run away. Be the coward I thought you were.
He pressed his thumb against a thorn. A tiny jewel of blood blossomed at the tip.
He fell to the floor.
Maytree screamed. Juliana thought she might as well, but she wasn’t sure. The bonds around her snapped away.
No, no, no—
The winds turned cold and dark. The sluaghs dispersed into the clouds, cawing and screeching, a violent cacophony of noise. Branches, leaves, bracken—all took to the air, like birds of glass.
Stumbling, Juliana dragged herself through the raging storm to Hawthorn’s form, slumped beneath the bloody thornbush. His chest was still rising and falling.
She touched his cheek. His eyelids fluttered open, dragged up and down by the force of the spell. “Bet you’re regretting coming with us now…” he muttered blearily.
Juliana tried to laugh. “Just a bit.”
His fingers found hers, pinning her hands to him with all the force of a kitten. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Silver lined his eyes.
“It’s all right,” Juliana whispered, though the wind stole half her words. “It’s all right.”
“Liar.”
The tempest ripped a fallen log from the floor. It sailed overhead, narrowly missing her. Hawthorn’s hands sprung from hers, coming up to cover her head, as though he hoped to shield her from debris with nothing but his fingers.
“You should leave,” he told her.
“You’re right. I probably should.” She caught his eyes, holding his face as consciousness slipped from him.I’m not sure I will, though.
“Such touching concern from a loyal guard,” crooned a voice behind them.
Juliana turned, dagger in hand. “You won’t win,” she told him.
Ladrien smirked. “If you’re thinking about dear Princess Serena, little mortal, I’m afraid I have some news for you.”
Juliana’s insides froze. Beneath her fingers, Hawthorn tensed.How does he know?
A figure moved through the ferns, blood splattered against his tabard, sword drenched.
Father.
And behind him… Kieran, lying still and unmoving on the ground.
A trick,Juliana told herself.Only a trick. Kieran isn’t dead by his hand. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
“Markham,” Ladrien said, almost as if he were greeting an old friend. “Would you kindly tell our audience where Princess Serena is right now?”
Markham did not share Ladrien’s smile. “Princess Serena never left Faerie,” he reported. “I intercepted her caravan with your forces, as instructed. She’s being held just outside the capital, ready to be taken back whenever you desire.”
“No,” said Juliana, certain she misheard, that this was all some terrible dream. “You’re lying. You’d never…why?”
Because Juliana knew her father. And why she’d never had reason to doubt his loyalty to the crown, she knew more than anything else that he would have to have a good reason to break his vows. Something more than money or greed.
