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Juliana paused. “Because I want him to find me,” she whispered. “I want it. I want… I wanthim.“ Sobs banged against her chest. “I need the connection to be something I can break when this is over, something I can control—something that can’t breakme.“ She sniffed into her shirt. “Please,” she whispered. “Tell me it’s the pendants. Tell me I don’t feel anything for him. Because I can’t. I can’t—”
Mabel sighed, patting her shoulder. “The pendants can’t have forced affection on you, child. Indeed, I suspect the dreams are caused by a connection that was already there. What you feel is real, and should not be feared.”
But I can fear being without him. I can fear what will happen when this is all over.
A hard lump snagged at Juliana’s throat, a weight against her chest both tightening and lifting. This was what she was afraid of, and at the same time… a part of her welcomed it. A part of her knew it couldn’t be anything else. These feelings hadn’t sprung up in the last few weeks. They’d been there for a long, long while, no matter how much she’d tried to bury them.
Tears started to fall—for Hawthorn, for Dillon, for this situation, she wasn’t sure. Silent, guttural sobs, as hard and unstoppable as the avalanche had been.
“Rest, child,” Mabel suggested, handing her another vial. “The world is not yet hopeless.”
When Juliana woke, darkness had fallen over the little hut. Mabel sat in the chair by the fire, knitting. She did not appear to hear her when she called out.
Someone was stroking Juliana’s face, their touch feather-soft. “Hey,” Hawthorn said, when her eyes met his. He was crouched on the floor beside her, the rest of the bed being taken up by her sleeping form behind her. It ought to have been weird, but she was too tired to care. “I hope you don’t mind me sneaking in here. I haven’t been watching you all day, I promise. Just leaning in every now and again to check in on you.”
“You weren’t here earlier,” she said. “Mabel said she could sense you.”
He nodded. “Quite useful, that witch.”
“She said you made a bargain with her.”
His thumb brushed her cheek. “I didn’t have a choice.”
That shouldn’t have been true, but Juliana didn’t press it. “No more making bargains with witches for my sake.”
“No such promises,” he said, still smiling at her. “Besides, you made one for my sake first.”
“What makes you think it was for you and not my knighthood?”
He snorted. “A faerie answer if there ever was one, you delicious liar.” All traces of smiles dropped away. “I went back to the mountainside,” he said, “while you were resting. I found Dillon. I buried him.”
A knot in Juliana’s chest heaved and then loosened. It was a small but important comfort to know that his earthly remains no longer sat upon the lonely snow, waiting to be picked at.
“Thank you,” she breathed. And then, “How?”
“How what?”
“How did you bury his body when you can’t…”
“Touch anything?” He smirked, but she could see him trying to contain it, to seem less pleased than he was. He raised his hands and flicked his wrists, making the branches outside shake against the window. The old witch startled in her chair, but then carried on knitting.
“I’ve been practising,” he told her. “Little else to do. Hoped that maybe I could try and get a message to Miriam if I mastered it, or even tug Serena up the stairs myself… but no such luck yet. Did manage to free the horses, though. Cercis was making a frightful racket.”
“That’s actually quite smart.”And kind, too.
“I did pay attention insomeof our lessons, you know.”
“Oh? Which ones?”
Hawthorn pursed his lips, as if trying to resist the impulse to answer. “The ones you were merely mediocre at,” he admitted. “I found myself too overwhelmed with jealousy in the classes you excelled in… and too boastful in the ones you didn’t.” He paused again, harder than before. “I don’t think I ever apologised for—”
“You don’t have to. I gave as good as I got.”
“I had power, and you had none,” he continued. “It was inexcusable for me to treat you as I did, and quite honestly, I’m surprised you agreed to be my guard.” He swallowed. “I wasn’t particularly good to you in those early days, either. I deserve no praise for ‘not being as bad as I was’ but… I hope, in your eyes at least, I have improved.”
Juliana swallowed, because of course he had, and it shocked her to realise that he didn’t know it, or needed to hear her say it. “Immeasurably.”
Hawthorn looked decidedly more pleased at this than he did his command over the trees.
