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“Steady, steady,” said the witch, coming forward to offer her a bowl of piping hot stew. Juliana dug in hungrily, not caring if it was laced with something. She was ravenous. “Your prince is still condemned to a dream world. Luckily for you both, I’ve some experience with the place, and can sense when others are in it… at least when they’re as loud as your prince fellow. Good grief. There I was, idly out picking herbs, when he came shrieking into the glade a couple of days ago, demanding my assistance. Had to trek up a mountain to find you, girlie.”
Juliana swallowed down a lump of potato. She could not imagine the witch hadn’t demanded some sort of payment. “What did you get for your troubles?”
“A favour,” she said, “unspecified, to be extracted whenever I see fit.”
Juliana gritted her teeth. It was dangerous to make that kind of promise, especially with a witch.
“I did specify it would not be that which he could not bear to part with,” said Mabel hastily. “I’ll not be asking for his firstborn child or the heart of his true love, you’ll be happy to hear.”
That was not a great deal of comfort. There was still plenty of damage a promise like that could do.
“Is he… is he here now?” she asked.
The witch shook her head. “He came in and out whilst you were out of it, but I haven’t sensed him in a while.”
“I should…” Juliana swung her legs out of the bed. “I should get moving again.”
Mabel shoved her back into the bed. “You’ll do no such thing. Even with my magic, you’ll need at least another day to recover.”
“I can’t afford any more delays—”
“You’re outside the borders of the Whispering Woods,” Mabel informed her. “Two or three days away from the capital. A week away if you leave in this state. You’ll be crawling there. Don’t see you taking on Ladrien’s forces like that, do you?”
Juliana blanched. She’d taken out most of the army, but there were doubtless still plenty inside Acanthia. Would he divert the avalanche survivors back there, with his mortal invasion on hold?
“Why are you so eager to reach the castle?” Mabel asked.
Juliana paused. “My knighthood.”
The old lady shook her head. “I feel sorry for that poor princeling of yours, to be saddled with such a liar…”
“It’s not a lie!”
“You keep telling yourself that, dearie. Won’t make it any more true. Eat up.”
Juliana drained the dregs of the bowl, examining the rest of her body. She could move, despite the hot, dense pain in her middle, but her limbs were tired and weak. She hoped Mabel had some serious potions to bolster her strength, and wondered if they’d been included in the bargain she’d made with Hawthorn, or if Juliana would have to trade with her herself.
Her fingers skimmed against the pendant, still resting against her chest, cool and smooth.
“This charm you made for us…” she started, only half-sure of her words. “It’s what allows us to speak to one another?”
The witch nodded. “A rather useful side-effect I did not foresee.”
“Does… does it do anything else?”
“Like what?”
“It’s supposed to connect us, right? To allow us to find one another. But is there any chance it could have created another kind of connection?”
The witch raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”
Juliana’s chest felt tight, her breath stilted. “He’s definitely not here?”
Mabel shook her head.
“I feel… different towards him,” she admitted, each word painful. “I hate it when he’s not here and I’m terrified I won’t be able to save him but I’m terrified of succeeding, too because I don’t want to watch him marry Serena when I…” She looked up at Mabel imploringly. “Please, tell me that it’s just another side effect, that I don’t feel this way, that it’s all a result of this stupid pendant…”
Mabel regarded her stonily from her seat. “If you thought that, why haven’t you taken it off?”
