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“But if… if I can’t…”
“Don’t,” he said sharply, and then, more softly. “Please. Don’t.”
“I need someone to know…” she said, because she knew it was fruitless to get him to promise. Albert would be dead long before he woke. “But if you see my father again, I want you to stab him in the face.”
Hawthorn laughed. “Duly noted.”
“Aoife was a good friend,” she continued. “And Miriam a good mentor… and Iona a good aunt…”
“You don’t need to tell me this—”
“But I do,” she said, “I do, because someone needs to know, because I never told them, I never told them how much they meant to me and—”
“Jules.”
She blinked out tears, swallowing hard. “I don’t hate you as much as I pretend.”
Hawthorn slid his fingers to her face and cupped her cheeks. “I know you don’t.”
“Sometimes, actually, I think you might just be my favourite of all the beings.” She punched his thigh with all the strength that she could muster. “But bear in mind I hate almost everyone, so don’t be flattered by my depraved tastes.”
“Favourite being, hmm?”
“Oh, shut up. It’s momentary.”
“And now?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Where do I stand on your scale right now?”
She wanted to joke, but the energy to do so was slipping away from her. Everything was slipping away from her, like the walls of consciousness were coated with honey.
“I like you now,” she said, and glanced up at him. Hawthorn was staring down at her, face milky smooth and pale as moonlight. His eyes shone like pools of lakewater, intense and wondrous, ice-fierce and ember-soft. He had no business looking at her like that, his silken mouth dripping with concern. “I really, really like you now…”
But that was the pendant talking, not her, and she had liked Dillon too, Dillon whose eyes would never twinkle at her again, whose mouth would never smile, whose body lay frozen somewhere in the snow outside—
She’d not liked him like this, but she thought he might have felt something more for her. Could she have felt more for him, if it weren’t for these infernal pendants?
“I want to sleep now…” she said.
“Sleep then,” Hawthorn whispered. “Just make sure you wake up.”
Tears came again, and she closed her eyes, ashamed of feeling anything for anyone.
Hawthorn sang her mother’s song until he was hoarse, and then used magic to make shadows dance along the cave walls until she fell asleep.
“Whathappenedlastnight?”Juliana asked, barging into Hawthorn’s chambers in the early hours of the morning in nothing but a robe. Her wards were clutched in her hand, strands of hair and all.
Hawthorn’s neck suddenly felt rather hot. He unclenched the blanket, trying to appear calm. “Do you not remember?” he said placidly. “There was rather a lot of drinking and dancing…”
She frowned, rubbing her head. “Did I do something embarrassing?”
“You’re asking me? Don’t assume I was paying you any attention last night. You got to bed safely, and I haven’t heard any scandalous rumours. All in all, a rather fun night.”
He’d be rather pleased with that clever bit of manipulation if he wasn’t so terrified of her seeing through his not-quite-lies.
Parts of it really were rather fun…he thought wickedly, trying to keep his eyes away from where her robe parted at the chest.I saw you naked.
