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The door opens again, and we both jump.
I look up, and freeze, fear washing over me. “H-hey.”
Harrison Dane pokes his blonde head around the door and looks right at me. His eyes are bright blue, even in the low lighting, and at the moment they look as cold as ice as he glances from me to Roman. “Juliette? Are you okay?”
The way he asks is less like he’s concerned for me and more like a thinly veiled threat. Like if I’m not okay, he wants Roman to know he’s going to do something about it. I sigh. I’d almost prefer to have Tyberius back here than deal with this.
I might be technically betrothed to Harrison—I have been for years—but we hardly know each other. He’s not my boyfriend or my family or even a friend, and it’s not his job to check on me. Still, good manners win out and I smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Roman makes a derisive noise in the back of his throat like a scoff mixed with a laugh. He’s evidently unconcerned about Harrison’s threat. His mouth twists in a mocking smile. He moves backwards down the steps, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other still holding his clove. “Don’t worry, Dane. I haven’t corrupted her, yet. Just passing through.”
His black eyes dart to me for half a second before turning and walking away into the darkness. My stomach clenches and I have to fight the strangest urge to call after him. But I don’t—I can’t—that would be unsafe for both of us on so many levels.
“What was that?” Harrison asks.
I swallow, and shake my head to clear it. If Harrison goes and tells Tyberius, or worse, my father that Roman was talking to me…then what? “Uh, he was asking if I had a lighter.”
“A lighter?” He looks suspicious, and stares after Roman. “Why didn’t he use a rune?”
I furrow my brow, answering honestly this time. “I actually have no idea.”
Harrison’s frown deepens. “I thought it might be about what Lawrence said. Montague didn’t threaten you, did he?”
“No.” My brow furrows and I shove my hands in the pockets of Roman’s jacket. “Roman Montague doesn’t care about the Order enough to bother making threats. Everyone knows he doesn’t care about anything.”
Cat finally emerges and I’m tense as we walk to my car.
The street is lined on either side with large brick academic buildings. To our right, the library towers over everything else, the tallest building in the area. On the other side of the road, several dormitories and a science building are still fully lit up, despite the late hour. Everything is quiet, except for the hum of traffic on the adjacent Main Street, wind blowing between the buildings and the murmur of voices in the distance. The odor of cheese wafts all the way down the cobblestone sidewalk from the nearby late night pizza place, blending with the mid-November air and the crisp smell of leaves.
She throws a side eye at my borrowed suit-jacket. “Where’d you get that?”
I look sideways at her. I could tell her. She wouldn’t say anything…but I’m not ready to talk about whatever the hell just happened on the steps, and telling her the truth would raise too many questions I have no answers to. “It’s Harrison’s.”
Cat stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk and turns to me. “Really? But you hate him.”
I cross my arms. “I don’t hate him. I hardly know him. There’s a difference.”
“Ah, yes, all the trappings of a perfect marriage right there.”
“We’re not getting married. We’re betrothed.”
She gives me a side-eyed look. “Do you know what ‘betrothed’ means?”
“Yes, and until that ‘betrothed’ turns into ‘engaged’ I’m ignoring it. Practically everyone in the Order is betrothed, especially the founding family kids. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“O-kay,” she draws out the word into two syllables. “Enjoy that fantasy world you live in.”
“I will, thank you.”
But I can’t help but feel that even a fantasy land wouldn’t work for me. Because there’s only one person I ever pictured myself marrying, and honestly? Even in a fantasy, I can’t see it ever happening.
“You want to drive?” I ask Cat as we reach my car. “I’m exhausted.”
She looks at me with concern as I toss her the keys, but catches them and shrugs. “Sure.”
I walk around to the passenger side of my blood-red Mini Cooper, and bend to climb inside. Shutting the door, I lay my head against the window and close my eyes.
“So, what do you think that was about?” Cat asks.
