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Juliana, against her better judgement, found herself smiling. She took another sip of her drink. “I think you might quite enjoy my company.”
“I don’t detest you as much as I used to.”
“Feeling’s mutual.”
They clinked their goblets.
“Should we toast?” he suggested.
“What to?”
“To Summer, to enemies turnedveryreluctant friends, to beauty, to freedom—”
“To not wanting to stab one another in the face?”
Hawthorn laughed. “To not wanting to stab one another in the face,” he declared, as they held up their goblets again.
In the middle of the night, Juliana woke. Hawthorn was hovering over her. “I’m going to find a drink,” he said. “Is that permitted?”
Juliana was too tired to reply, too tired to remind herself that she ought to fetch it for him, or ask him to call for a servant. She muttered a faint word of affirmation and slipped back into blissful unconsciousness.
Sometime later, there was a soft knock at the door. “Juliana? Are you awake?” Her father’s voice.
Juliana groaned. “No.”
“Is the prince with you?”
“He’s asleep,” she said, not checking.
Her father coughed. “Don’t let him sneak out,” he continued. “There’s been an outbreak of faerie fever in the outskirts of town. Maytree is insisting everyone stay inside for the time being.”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded, not caring that he couldn’t see her.
His footsteps shuffled off down the corridor, and the room was left silent once more.
Silent.
She bolted up in bed and stared across at Hawthorn’s. Even in the dim light of the room, she could see that it was empty. His boots were gone too, and the clothes he’d left on the chair. What had he said?
I’m going to get a drink.
Unlikely that he’d fully dressed to get a drink from the restaurant below. Unlikely that he’d get it himself at all. She kicked herself inwardly for not waking up enough to question him.
I take it all back. I really, really want to stab him in the face.
Perhaps she would. Not with a knife, or anything that could do any real damage. Maybe a spoon.
Anything’s a weapon if you throw it hard enough,her father had told her, more than once.
Juliana was about to throw a spoon really, really hard.
She pulled on her trousers and boots, flinging on a loose shirt over the top. It wouldn’t do to be caught in her palace uniform if Maytree had placed them under quarantine—
How had he even gotten out? There were guards posted at the door—
Something banged softly, a light breeze shifting through the room.
The balcony.
