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This really wasn’t working to dispel his mood.
“Fancy a stroll about the gardens, Your Highness?” Algernon suggested. “It is a fine day.”
Hawthorn almost jumped. He’d quite forgotten Algernon could speak at all. His voice was utterly unfamiliar to him.
Shock aside, a walk actually sounded far better than moping in his room, and Juliana often frequented the gardens on her day off. They were extensive, true. But there was always a chance he could run into her.
Definitelybetter than sitting up here all day.
“You know, that sounds like an excellent idea. Fetch me my doublet.”
Algernon paused at the dresser, as if he’d forgotten where everything was kept.
“Second drawer,” Hawthorn instructed. “Hurry up, man. I haven’t got all day.”
Algernon selected a fine embroidered doublet in midnight blue. A bit fancy for the day, but Hawthorn didn’t complain. It was one of his best colours.
He rehearsed the words in his head.Why, Juliana, fancy meeting you here! Do you always come here on your day off?
She’d probably tell him he knew that already, and threaten some mild violence.
He couldn’t wait.
He set off with a spring in his step, Algernon trailing behind him. He had no idea where Juliana might be, but he suspected she favoured the wilder parts of the gardens, and probably somewhere not too warm. Some part of the spring wilderness, perhaps? A meadow? She liked pretty things far more than she pretended. The few times he’d seen her genuinely unwind, she’d had ribbons in her hair or fresh blooms on her clothing. He’d seen her buckle beneath beauty on more than one occasion.
He sighed. If only she had the same reaction to him.
Although she had, once. Their visit to the Summer Court, almost a year ago. She’d been drunk and let down her guard, just for a moment, confessing that in terms of appearance, at least, she found him pleasing.
He shook that thought away. It wasn’t fair to hold her to a drunken confession.
Something rustled in the bushes. He jolted involuntarily.
“A squirrel, Your Highness,” Algernon insisted. “Nothing more.”
“Naturally.”
He moved onwards through the grounds, ears peeled for any sound of Jules. But there was nothing, nothing at all—
Indeed, the gardens seemed to have turned soundless. No rustling, no birdsong.
Hawthorn turned. “Algernon—”
A dagger flashed. Hawthorn stumbled backwards, the blade catching his middle, just enough to slice the fabric. Algernon moved again as Hawthorn raced towards the undergrowth, flinging fireballs behind him.
There was something wrong with Algernon’s face. Not a glamour—any skilled faerie could sense a glamour. Something else, weird and waxy, like it was almost slipping off.
Not Algernon. Not Algernon at all.
Before Hawthorn could land an attack, two more figures sprung from the shadows. Two mortal faces, both unknown to him.
And Juliana wasn’t here.
He scrambled over to a large oak, pushing his power into the earth, tearing the roots from the ground. He swung them round like tentacles, catching one of them around the middle and flinging her into the nearby river.
Algernon and the third assassin advanced. One pulled out a crossbow. Hawthorn twisted a root around his ankle, yanking him off his feet as the bolt seared through the air.
It struck the tree behind him, slicing past his ear. Pain crackled at the tip.
