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“A lot of people have already left my service, as your father so kindly pointed out. Running short of decent guards willing to put up with me.”
“And what makes you think thatI’llput up with you?”
“Because I intend to make you an excellent offer,” he said, with the same serpentine smile. Juliana wanted to rip it off his face and shove it somewhere unpleasant. Did heeverstop smiling?
“I’m listening,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Be my personal guard until my eighteenth birthday. If the curse is broken, I’ll secure your knighthood. If the curse comes to pass, I’ll devise some way of securing you vast riches so that you may live exceedingly comfortably in some land free of the curse.”
“There are other paths to knighthood. Less… distasteful ones.”
“It’ll be an easy job and you know it. You’ll still be the youngest mortal knight in the kingdom. And in the meantime, you get a life of relative ease. Finest food in the kingdom. Excellent cakes. Far better than anything you could get in that hovel of yours, I’m sure.”
Juliana paused.
“You’re actually tempted by the cakes, aren’t you?”
“I… I like food, all right?” She pursed her lips. “Fine.I’ll be your guard until your eighteenth birthday. Under a few provisos.”
“Name them.”
“You tell me where you’re going to run off to. Your mother will have my head if I lose you, and it’ll be hard to secure my knighthood without it.”
Hawthorn rolled his eyes. “You exaggerate. My mother has always liked you. For some strange, unfathomable reason. But all right. I shall tell you when and where I’m running off.”
“Good. Secondly, I want a sword.”
“Don’t you already have several swords?”
”Afancyone.”
He sighed, half chuckling. “One fancy sword.”
“Thirdly, you were right, Iamtempted by the cakes. I want to eat anything I want for the next three years.”
Hawthorn grimaced. “Even from my plate?”
“I’ll keep my hands off your precious plate, Prince.”
“Then agreed. Anything else?”
“No calling me filthy mortal or words to that effect.”
“Fine. Are you quite finished?”
“I think so,” she said. “Yes.”
Hawthorn smiled, as though he had just won some great victory. “Juliana Ardencourt,” he said, like he was issuing some great proclamation, “be my guard until my eighteenth birthday. Keep me safe from harm, and upon the day, I shall award you with a knighthood. Should I be unable to complete my vow, riches shall be awarded instead. Accept my offer, and I shall ensure that you are informed of my whereabouts whilst I am in your care, that you receive a fancy sword, that the kitchens will offer you anything they hold, and I shall refrain from calling you a filthy mortal. Do you accept our terms?”
Grudgingly, Juliana held out her hand. “I accept.”
Hawthorn took her fingers and kissed them. “This is going to be a very interesting three years.”
Looking at that beautiful, sinister smile of his, Juliana couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t just made a terrible mistake.
“WhereisthePrince?”shrieked Dillon’s voice in the next room, yanking Juliana from sleep. She groaned, tumbling out of bed and shrugging off the arm that had somehow found its way around her in the night.
Odd. She ought to have woken up the minute he touched her. She was usually a light sleeper, prone to waking at the slightest noise, the slightest indication that something wasn’t right. And yet somehow she’d managed to end up somehow…entwinedwith him?
