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The heart’s blood of the one I loved most in the world.But Markham had not loved himself more than he had loved his daughter, and Juliana didn’t love him as much as she loved—
Not him. Please. Anyone but him,she’d prayed once.Awful as this loss was, there was another, worse one. One that would cleave her in two.
And one she could never speak, no matter how much she felt it.
“Because I hated him,” she whispered in the dark. “I hated him. It wasn’t a sacrifice.”
“It was,” replied Hawthorn, “and you didn’t hate him. Not completely. Not always. But it’s all right to hate him for now, if you need to. I know that’s easier.”
She’d lost Dillon. That loss still fractured against her, and would for some time, when she was allowed to feel it fully. If she had to lose another person she loved, another person who had loved her, truly and completely, however wrongly, however poorly—
“I can’t,” she choked instead. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—”
Hawthorn’s arms tightened around her, showing no indication that he would ever let go. She cried for what felt like hours. “I feel like he had me under a glamour my entire life,” she said, finally drying her eyes. “He didn’t need any magic to glamour me, but I still only saw what he wanted me to see.” She didn’t know what to do with that knowledge, that feeling, didn’t know who or what she was supposed to fight to make it go away. And perhaps that was the point—she shouldn’t want to fight anything. She’d been made to feel that way and no ward or pendant would free her from that spell. She needed time.
She took a deep breath, and shook her head.No more, not now. Later.“At least I can be assured thatyou’venever glamoured me,” she whispered, clinging to the certainties she had, assurances that no one but him could give her.
Hawthorn went silent.
“Hawthorn?”
“I have something to tell you,” he confessed. “I fear your reaction, but I shall tell you nonetheless. I’m not sure now is the best time, but—”
Juliana’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”
“Remember our trip to the Summer Court? One of the last nights we had there. You drank some punch laced with something.”
“I think I’d remember—” Realisation dawned. She remembered waking up and finding all her wards flung off nearby, and no clear memories of the night before, only Hawthorn’s assurances that everything was fine. “Oh.Oh.”
“You didn’t do anything embarrassing!” he added hastily. “At least, not publicly. I steered you out there the second I realised something was amiss.”
“What do you mean, notpublicly?”
Hawthorn’s throat bobbed, as if he’d been hoping she wouldn’t pick up on that. “You said a few things… stripped naked… I was slightly worried you might gouge my eyes out the next day, but I also knew how mortified you’d be, so… I glamoured you to forget.” He paused. “You can be angry now, if you like.”
Juliana hesitated. She felt more embarrassed than angry. Perhaps she should have found it a violation, but the truth was, she was actually rather thankful. Shewouldhave been mortified. And her anger at him for helping her back then would have been unwarranted the morning after.
“I’m not angry,” she told him, voice steady. She waited another second. “What sort of things did I say?”
Hawthorn pulled a face, like he wasn’t sure whether or not to smirk or cringe. “You may have told me how attractive you found me.”
“Mayhave?”
“Um, you did. You did say that.”
“Ohlords.What did I say? Did I mention your eyes? I bet I mentioned your eyes.”
“My eyes?” Hawthorn frowned.
“I’m obsessed with them,” Juliana admitted through her fingers. “Have been for years. Hated that I didn’t know the word for the precise colour.”
“Really?” The disbelief on Hawthorn’s face was as stark as raven in winter. “Please do go on. I’ve never found my eyes to be my best feature. My rear, perhaps. My sinfully sharp cheekbones or kissably soft mouth. My surprisingly lithe muscular form…”
“I don’t need to compliment you, you’re doing an excellent job yourself.”
“It isn’t the same. Observe.” He took her hand in his. “Juliana, for all that you seem to be perpetually covered in mud and your scowl is a permanent fixture of your face—”
“You’re not very good at this complimenting business, are you?”
