Visited

Julien had visited Roselyn in her room the day previous to her trial. He came in without any notice at all, no knock or warning — nothing; looking tired, with dark, purpled crescents under his eyes, and a rat’s nest for hair. She raised a brow at him, a thick book on her lap. She had started reading it out of complete boredom, and was flicking through the watercolor pictures that were incorporated with the story.

“Yes, of course you can come in, Julien,” she said sarcastically. “Thank you for asking.”

He huffed at her, leaning his back against the the bedroom door. She noticed he had not taken one step inside. She sighed. “What do you want?”

“I need you to promise me something.” The doorway shadowed his face and made his eyes seem darker, harder to read.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Can you tell me what it is that I’m promising to before I agree to it?”

“If I tell you, you won’t agree to it,” he stated. Those deep blue eyes of his flickered at her. At least he’s honest, she thought.

“Well, there you go,” she told him. “There’s your answer.”

He frowned at her. She knew that was not the response he had wanted. “Please,” he begged, his voice raw. He took a small step forward. “Just promise me.”

“Tell me what it is.”

“No.”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Sorry. I can’t help you, then.”

“Why are you so difficult,” Julien muttered, a hurt expression on his face. Roselyn felt a pang of guilt pass through her. She quickly pushed it away, not allowing herself to give into her emotions. “Please, Roselyn. This is for your own good.”

“The last time I heard that phrase, I was being shoved into a cell for a crime I didn’t do,” she said deadpan. “I lived in that hellhole for ten months straight. Every day I woke up to the scent of urine and decay. It was suffocating. I would’ve done anything to get out of there, even die.” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “You can understand why I do not like to hear it.”

“I’m not going to toss you into a cell, Roselyn.”

“I know,” she said. “But I’m still not going to agree to what you’re asking.”

Julien exhaled loudly. “I want you to plead guilty.”

“What?” Roselyn sat up. The book clattered to the floor in a loud thump! “Plead guilty, Julien? Are you insane? That would put the both of us at risk. You would no longer become the heir—”

“Exactly,” he replied calmly. He crossed his arms.

She stared at him in horror. “You’ve completely lost it!” She exclaimed. “What the hell happened to you? Did you hit your head? Did the Queen slap you too hard in the face this time?”

“Just trust me on this,” he told her. “Promise?”

She swallowed. “You’re crazy.”

“Do you promise me?” He repeated.

“Fine,” she agreed, clenching her jaw. “I agree to your goddamn promise — but only because you have yet to let me down.”

“Thank you.” He let out a sigh of relief, and all the lines in his face seemed to disappear. He turned away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Roselyn.”

“Yeah,” she said, barely a whisper. “I’ll see you.”

He closed the door before she finished.