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She glanced down. Two brilliant aegean eyes stared back at her, bright and blinking. “What—what happened? Where’s Serena?”
Juliana’s knees gave out. She sunk back to the bed. “You… you’re awake.”
“Apparently?” Hawthorn sat up groggily. “I don’t… I don’t understand. The curse said—”
Only his chosen fae bride.
And she wasn’t fae.
And they weren’t engaged.
But she’d woken him. Somehow—she’d done it.
Juliana felt a smile ripping through her, a warmth unlike anything she’d known, quiet and tentative. She was afraid to give it weight, and at the same time—she didn’t care. She wasn’t afraid anymore. He was awake, he wasn’t engaged to Serena, they were here, together… what could she possibly fear? “It doesn’t matter,” she told him, stroking a lock of hair behind his ear. “You’re free. We’reallfree.”
“I don’t…” He shivered under her touch. “I don’t… feel right.”
He fell back against the pillows, eyes circling in his head. Colour ran from his cheeks.
“Hawthorn!” Juliana grabbed his face. He was as cold as ice. Her hands slid to his chest, finding his heart beating rapidly. Too rapidly.
A laugh sounded from the door.
“I was so,sohoping you’d do something like that.”
Juliana wheeled around, drawing her sword. Ladrien stood in the doorway, still bruised, still hurt, but upright and alive andlaughing.
“Worry not, girl, I’ve broken no vows. You won, fair and square. Your mortal friends are free. But the curse isn’t broken. Only a kiss from his chosen fae bride could do that. And you… you are neither. What did you think? That true love’s kiss would win the day?”
Juliana glanced down at Hawthorn, his breathing sharp and shallow. She raised her blade to Ladrien. “Heal him,” she demanded.
Ladrien laughed. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t. I prefer this ending much more. Go on, girl. Run me through. My curse will still stand. In a hundred years Maytree will wake and find her only son dead… you won’t be alive to tell your side of the story. Who’s to say she won’t assumeyoudid it? Or some other filthy mortal, hoping to end the curse. Maybe she’ll follow in my footsteps, decide you mortals are pests to be eradicated—”
Juliana stepped forward, ready to stop his words with her blade—
“Juliana,” Hawthorn called.
The word dragged her from her quest, dragged her from everything, had her snapping back towards him like a magnet.
She gathered him in her arms. Ladrien could wait. She’d deal with him in a minute, once she’d worked out how to fix this, how to…
He couldn’t die. He couldn’t. Not after all this. Not at all.
I prefer happy endings,he’d told her once.
Me too,she realised now.Me too, me too, me too.
“You look… worried…” he panted, each pained word slicing into her.
Juliana’s throat tightened. “I might be. Just a bit. Trying to work out a few things.” She found his fingers and wound them into hers.
“You… have to… hand it to me…” he whispered, “at death’s door and… I’m still… managing to charm you.”
“You’re not charming me.”
“Liar.” He coughed, hard and brittle. “At least I won’t have to watch you die, now. I was always so afraid of that. This… this is better for me…”
Juliana ran her fingers over his mouth, thumbing his lips. “You are not going to die,” she told him. “I forbid it.”
