hand, and they jog down the slope to the docks. The mainland boat rocks quietly in the water. Its portholes and fastenings shine under the moonlight. Even at night, it is too bright for the likes of Wolf Spring.
“You want him to be king-consort,” Jules says.
“Of course I do. My foster brother and Arsinoe on the throne, you and me on the council—it would tie everything up rather nicely.”
“Me on the council?” Jules scoffs. “Leading her personal guard, more like. You certainly have everything planned out, Joseph.”
“Well, I did have five years to think of it.”
They cross the gangway, and Jules holds her hand back to coax Camden over.
“Is she afraid of boats?”
“No, but she doesn’t like them. We go out sometimes, with Matthew. To help him fish.”
“I’m glad you’ve stayed close,” says Joseph. “Even after Caragh. Being around you, I think it lets him keep a piece of her. Something those bastards can’t take away.”
“Yes,” Jules says. Matthew still loves her aunt Caragh, and she hopes that he always will.
Jules looks around. The decks are polished, and everything is neat and clean. Nothing smells like fish. The black sails are tied tight. But of course Chatworth would bring his finest vessel to the island. And the Chatworths must be an important family where they come from. Else how could a son become a suitor?
“Jules, this way.”
Joseph leads her down to the cabins, sneaking quietly and avoiding the crew. They step through a small door into pitch darkness, until he lights a lamp. The room they have entered is also small, with a bunk and a writing desk and a few pieces of clothes still hanging in the closet. Cam stands up on her hind legs and sniffs all around the door.
The belly of the boat is warm, and Jules’s neck comes out of hiding. But she wishes for some excuse to hide her face.
“I don’t know what to say to you,” she says. “I want things to be just like they were before.”
“I know,” says Joseph. “But we can’t exactly play ‘knights raid the castle’ anymore, can we?”
“Certainly not without Arsinoe here to play the dragon.”
They laugh together, remembering.
“Ah, Jules,” he groans. “Why did I have to come back now? During an Ascension? Every moment with you already feels like it’s stolen.”
Jules swallows. It is a jolt, to hear him speak that way. They never used to say things like that when they were children. Not even during their most grand pronouncements of loyalty.
“I got something for you,” he says. “It seems silly now.”
He goes to the writing table and opens a drawer. Inside is a small white box, tied with green ribbon.
“It’s a present, for your birthday,” he says.
No one ever celebrates Jules’s birthday. Jules is a Beltane Begot, a child conceived during the festival of Beltane, like the queens. It is considered very lucky, and they are all supposed to be charmed, but it is a horrible birthday to have. Forgotten and overshadowed.
“Open it.”
Jules unties the ribbon. Inside the box is a delicate silver ring, set with dark green stones. Joseph takes it out and slips it onto her finger.
“On the mainland, this would mean you had to marry me,” he says quietly.
One ring in exchange for a marriage. He must be joking, but he looks so earnest.
“It is a very nice ring.”
“It is,” he says. “But it doesn’t suit you. I should have known.”
“Is it too pretty for me?”
“No,” he says quickly. “I meant, you don’t have to pretend to like it. You don’t have to wear it.”
“I want to wear it.”
Joseph bends his head and kisses her hands. She shivers, though his lips are warm. He looks at her in a way he has never looked at her, and she knows with both hope and dread that it is true. They have grown up.
“I want things to be just as they would have been if I had never been banished,” he says. “I won’t let them cost me anything, Jules. Especially not you.”
“Luke. This cake is dry.”
Arsinoe takes a swallow of tea to wash it down. Normally, Luke’s baking is her favorite on the island. He is always trying out new recipes from the various baking books he keeps on the shelves but never manages to sell.
“I know,” Luke says, and sighs. “I was short by an egg. Sometimes, I wish that Hank was a hen.”
Arsinoe pushes her plate across the counter, and the black-and-green rooster pecks at her crumbs.
Jules will arrive at the shop