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She had to.
StraightafterHawthorn’sseventeenthbirthday, the royal party journeyed towards the Summer Court for the sheer purpose of meeting a prospective bride. Time, everyone was intimately aware, was running out, as were the number of willing candidates. There had been a few over the years since Lucinda, but each one had been judged “eminently unsuitable” by Maytree if not Hawthorn himself.
“We are not merely choosing a bride,” Maytree reminded all those who would disagree, “but a future queen of Faerie. We cannot have just anyone.”
There was a reason she had never married Aspen, naming him only as her consort. There was a reason Ladrien had insisted on a bride rather than any fae creature. And, although fae marriages never swore forever, there was a reason no one was agreeing to become his bride without ensuring some degree of power on their part.
“Let the marriage not be broken until she has known at least ten years as queen,” was one stipulation.
“Let her first bear the future king or queen of Faerie,” was another.
“Let the marriage not be over until she sees fit,” was a third.
Maytree had dismissed them all. “I will not save Faerie to have it ruined.”
There were some, Juliana knew, who were not happy with her choice, but Maytree was not to be argued with.
Sometimes, Juliana wondered if Maytree didn’t have other reasons for dismissing the matches too, if deep down, she didn’t want for her son what she had had with his father—love and companionship, the kind that had endured long after death.
Most faeries thought little of sex, but Maytree hadn’t taken anyone to her bedchamber since Aspen had been killed, hadn’t so much as looked at another man, had barely danced at a revel. There had been a few whispers at court that she grieved too much, but that didn’t seem fair to Juliana. It hadn’t even been two years. For a faerie as old as Maytree, that must have felt like yesterday.
“You’ve never been to the Summer Court before, have you?” Maytree asked Juliana, as the carriage trundled down the Summer Road.
Juliana shook her head. “No, but I’ve been longing to go. I’ve never seen the sea before.”
“We’ll have to ensure you get some time off so that you may explore at your leisure. After we’ve inspected the Summer Palace, of course, and ensured it’s safe enough.”
Hawthorn groaned. “Am I to be held captive in my rooms until then?”
“You’re no prisoner, Hawthorn. Stop acting like you are. Many would be grateful—”
“Ordinarily, Mother, I’m sure many would jump at the chance to live the life of a prince, but people are considerably less excited about the prospect of being murdered every day of their lives. Do you honestly know many who would be happy to be me?”
Maytree remained silent.
“I didn’t think so.”
The tension in the carriage remained palpable until they at last came to a stop in Merwood, the final respite from their journey before they’d reach the Summer Court. It was a sprawling town carved out of the forest, divided by rivers and waterfalls and humming with firefly light in the warm evening air. Juliana’s skin buzzed, dusted by gold. Every time she visited somewhere new in Faerie, she thought it was the most beautiful place she’d ever been. She hoped that feeling never abated. She hoped she never saweverywhere.
At the same time, she knew she’d never be happy until she had.
She glanced up at Hawthorn, storming up the winding steps to the inn that Maytree had rented the entirety of for the night.
My cage is bigger than yours, at the moment,she realised.But one day you may be free of yours.
That evening, they unwound in the private dining room, the blackness of the skies outside swirling with dizzying light. In the busy streets below, all manner of fae were gathering, dressed in glittering gossamer gowns that sung with starlight. Juliana half-wished Hawthorn was allowed to venture outside; she wanted to experience this place, inhale it.
Hawthorn clicked at one of the serving-girls, a green-skinned beauty with eyes like pearls. “This wine is quite delicious,” he said briskly. “Have another bottle sent to my room, will you?”
The serving-girl disappeared, and Hawthorn climbed to his feet.
“Mother, all other respectable company, I bid you goodnight.”
He swept towards the chamber he’d been assigned, not even glancing to see if Juliana was following. She did, of course. She always did.
He barged into the room, removing his extra clothing, and slumped down in a seat by the window. The wine arrived shortly afterwards. Hawthorn poured himself a long measure.
“Are you going to lurk at the door all night?” he barked.
