AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Faeries could not whisper the lie, “everything is fine,” but they could put on a display so opulent it would fool even the most cynical of hearts.
Except, apparently, Juliana’s.
And Hawthorn’s. He was smiling and laughing as usual, but Juliana knew a false one by now, and could see the storminess brewing behind those eyes.
Everyone else was putting on an excellent show of it. Maytree had descended from her throne to twirl about with the courtiers, the vines blooming and twisting above her. Miriam, whilst not drinking, was engaged in an arm wrestling competition at the side with Barney the minotaur. Markham was chatting merrily to the human knights—not about tomorrow, but about old times.
If people were frightened about what tomorrow would bring, they hid it well.
Of course, most of them were promised safety.
Not seeing anyone to talk to at present, Juliana made her way to Hawthorn’s side. He was talking to Raife, a fox-haired young man from Autumn they’d gone to school with. Juliana had few fond memories of him, but also few negative ones, which was often as much as she could hope for. He’d grown into a moony, lyrical person with a flair for the dramatic but was otherwise harmless.
Currently, the latest object of his affection was a beautiful young merman with shimmering skin like a kipper and eyes of pure jet. Raife’s attempts to court him had progressed little beyond a few sighs and some truly atrocious poetry.
“Do you ever find,” he said to Hawthorn, his eyes following the merman about, “that whenever you’re around someone you adore, you act like a complete fool?”
Hawthorn’s eyes spread across the dancefloor, and Juliana wondered who he was searching for. “Tell me about it,” he said.
“You always act like a fool,” she interjected.
Hawthorn jumped, but recovered quickly. “Is that so?” he said, not looking at her. “Please don’t think too much about that.”
Raife laughed, and descended down into the throng of dancers in pursuit of his lover. Juliana sidled up to Hawthorn and leant against his chair. She was half-tempted to sit on the armrest. What did propriety matter now?
“All set for tomorrow?” she asked, trying to sound jovial. “I did try to get you a present.”
Hawthorn frowned, turning to face her. “You did?”
“It’s not much—just a book. I left it under your pillow. Nothing special, just the last one I read that I enjoyed.”
Hawthorn stared at her. She wasn’t surprised. It was a silly gift, but he already hadeverythingelse she could possibly afford and she didn’t want to give him nothing.
There was a little note in it too, but she didn’t want to mention that right now.
“My birthday is actually the anniversary of when we met,” said Hawthorn, in lieu of the ‘thank you’ a mortal might bestow.
“Is it?” Juliana frowned. “I thought we didn’t meet until the naming ceremony.”
Hawthorn shook his head. “Your mother was there, you know. When I was born. Supporting my mother.”
“I didn’t know.” She knew her mother had served the Queen, but she hadn’t known they’d been so close.
He nodded. “Apparently, after it was all over, your father came to the door with you in his arms. You were screaming for your mother, but before she could leave the room, you’d wriggled out of your father’s grip, raced across the room, and bolted over the bed to get to her. Not a care given to the queen or the baby in her arms.”
“Screaming aside, that does sound like me.”
He smiled. “Apparently, you stopped crying almost immediately, and then becamefascinatedwith the baby in the room.”
“Hmm. Me, fascinated by you? I suppose I was only a child… didn’t know any better.”
“Would it be so hard to pretend you like me?”
“It would be easy to pretend…” she said, and nudged his elbow.It would be much harder to tell the truth.
Hawthorn shoved her off the armrest. “Go,” he said, mouth turning up in the corners. “Your friend is waiting for you.”
Juliana turned. Aoife was standing a few feet away, clean and dust-free for once, raven’s feathers braided in her hair, her face smeared with shimmering paint, leaves drawn on her bare legs like the ribbons of sandals. Her grin was impish.
