Moments later, I hear a timid knock. “Rose.” “Go away!” “Rose. Please.” I sigh and go to the door, to find Conrad standing like a wounded dog. The top of his head rests on the doorway, and he looks up at me through the dark fringe of his eyelashes. He is wearing a sprig of juniper in his collar today, just like the one he wore the night of the faerie revel.
