Page 101 of Heir to His Court

She dances back when I reach zombie arms toward her, fully intending a headlock and a sloppy kiss.

Which she well knows.

“I should be spouting poetry atyou,” she taunts. “Oh Renaud, Renaud, wherefore art thou Renaud? Deny thy House and refuse thy vengeance. Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulette.”

I halt, lowering my arms with a scowl. “I would not say such things if I were you. I don’t know how you even come up with it.”

“Didn’t you study anything in New York besides Netflix? It's Shakespeare, you undereducated heathen. The human our elders named our Everennesse Houses after like an inexplicably bad inside joke?”

“I know who Shakespeare is. I just didn't know you'd memorized that damn play.”

“One of us had to justify the tuition. You were busy—”

I flick my fingers. “Best not say those words out loud.” I glance over my shoulder. “He's a little testy still.” And the most mercurial, inconsistent peoples I know right now. “I need to get back. Gohome, Juliette.”

She increases the wattage of her smile.

“Damn.” I rub my hand over my face. “Right. Just. . .try harder to stay out of sight, then. I don’t think the White told the Prince you’re skulking.” Which means, I realize with an internal sigh, that I owe their Captain a favor. Of course.

Juliette shrugs and begins to back away, the scent of lavender and brimstone in the air. “Kill a Montague to signal you need me—they’re all over the palace like roaches, one won’t be missed. I’ll follow the screams.”

“I think not. Baroun would—”

Lavender and brimstone.

My talons slip their sheathes before I think, my Skills acting without my conscious volition.

“Juliette!” I scream and leap as a shadowed figure coalesces behind her. Midnight skin shimmering like the cosmos and equally bottomless eyes. Long hair darker than the abyss, tipped in starlight.

Claws burst through Juliette’s chest the second I reach her.

Between the spaces of those seconds I know I have been a fool.

Let me count the ways:

One, I relaxed my guard. I thought I was safe enough, that Faronne was safe because in my girlishness, being with Raniel feels like being in the presence of a god.

Two: I have allowed my House to relax their guard, I have not considered all the ways they can be used against me.

Three: I have not turned over Juhainah’s last words to me with the care a threat from an Ancient deserves.

“Very well, Granddaughter. I will bend my attention to seeking a better enticement for you.”

Four: I thought we had more time.

Haven’t I learned by now that there is never any such thing as more time?

Blood.

Juliette’s blood.

The White burst through the trees and hands are on me, drawing me back as the warrior circle me behind a protective barrier. I fight—I need to get to her, but Juhainah just looks at me and arches a brow.

They’re gone, nothing but the pool of Juliette’s blood on the ground to prove I am not crazy.

Wings burst from my back and I scream, a shockwave of power I distantly assume is Raniel crashing through the trees.

There is nothing to hunt, no trail. No body to mourn.

---