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“Well?” he said. “Tell her, Lucy. Tell her what a liar she is.”
“All mortals are liars,” she said swiftly, with only the slightest of tremors. “That worm more than most.”
Juliana spat out mud, ready to speak, but it was Hawthorn that did so next. “But is she lying aboutthis?”
“I don’t know what she thought she heard—“
“What do you want more,” he asked, “me… or my crown?”
At this, she could not speak.
And Hawthorn had his answer.
The morning after Hawthorn snuck away toOwen’safter giving Dillon the slip, Juliana woke bright and early, combed her locks into a braid, and forewent her uniform (a black tabard adorned with green thorns) for plain clothes; a soft pair of brown trousers, a loose lilac shirt, and a long waistcoat that gave some semblance of respectability.
She pounced into the next room, ignoring the fact that Hawthorn was spread out naked on the bed, and flung open the curtains.
He winced at the sudden intrusion of the light, hissing as he grabbed a blanket to cover himself.
“Juliana,” he groaned, “I wish I could say you’re a sight to wake up to.”
“Even my mortal tongue could not find the words to utter the lie, ‘it’s good to see you, too’.”
“So cruel, Jules.” He ran a hand down his face. “My head hurts.”
“As long as I live, I will never get over your incredible ability to get drunk quite so easily.”
“I require water.”
“Say ‘please’.”
“Please.”
Juliana took the jug of water from the nightstand and threw it over his face. Hawthorn screamed.
“You—what was that for?”
“For running away from Dillon!”
“I said I was sorry!”
“You could have cost him his job! ‘Sorry’ doesn’t cut it!”
Hawthorn shifted up in bed, removing his sopping sheet and flinging it to the floor. His scowl twisted into something else. “You’re being very protective of him—“
“That’swhat you’re concerned about?”
“I wouldn’t want you to be distracted on the job.”
“Have you ever known me to be distracted?”
“I don’t know,” said Hawthorn, stretching out his long, cat-like body on the bed. “Maybe occasionally.”
“Stop that.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
