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“How lucky for Your Highness to have such a skilled guard.”
“Few things I am blessed with, but she is certainly one of them.”
Juliana wanted to pull at her collar. Or throttle him. She wasn’t sure which.
“Hawthorn,” said his mother warningly, “offer our guest some hospitality.”
“Fine,” he said, like a petulant child being told to eat his greens. “You have journeyed far to our home, sister of the Autumn Court. It would be rude to turn you away. Despite how tempting that may be—“
“Hawthorn—“
”—I will give you the benefit of the doubt. It has been six years, after all. So much can change in that time.”
“Your Highness is most gracious.”
“You have three days,” he said shortly. “You may rest, and return to your own court.”
Lucinda buckled. For a journey as long as hers, a week’s respite minimum would be the norm. Three days was an insult. “Your Highness—“
“I find this conversation bores me,” Hawthorn announced, standing up. “I daresay I’ll see you at dinner.”
He swept out of the room. Juliana took a moment to bow to the Queen and their guests, and then hurried after him.
In the narrow corridor adjacent to the hall, Hawthorn ran a hand through his curls, breathing hard. “Well, that could have gone worse.”
Juliana regarded him carefully for a moment. Every time she thought she knew him, he went and did something that completely threw her off. “Why did you bring me into it?”
Hawthorn smiled, not unkindly. She hated that smile as much as her body loved it. It was a wicked, sinful smile that rippled across her belly in hot, painful waves.
He took a step towards her, the shadow of his head meeting hers. “I wanted her to know you were still here,” he said, “and she wasn’t.”
“Is that it?”
“No.” His smile deepened, inching closer. His hand tugged on the end of her braid, hanging over her shoulder. He teased the strands between his fingers. “Would you like to know the other reason?”
Yes,she thought desperately.No.
Why was he standing so close? Why was he touching her hair?
Why was shelettinghim?
Before she could think of a suitable response or force a lie to her lips, the door banged open, and Maytree stepped into the passage. Darkness lit her expression.
Hawthorn groaned, moving away from Juliana. “Mother.”
“We need to talk.”
“Must we?”
“Juliana, please wait upstairs. I assure you my son will be perfectly safe in my presence for a couple of minutes.”
Hawthorn turned his head towards Juliana as she eased past him, not taking his eyes off his mother. “Juliana, I am not sure I believe her.”
“Now.”
Juliana headed upstairs as instructed, waiting for Hawthorn at the top of the staircase. Although there were guards posted outside his door as usual, she wasn’t entirely sure of his capacity to make it there without wandering off or inviting trouble.
He didn’t wander off. He stormed straight past her, into his room, and uncorked the fresh bottle of wine set by the window.
