“Lady!” A strong arm steadied Juliette in the downpour, keeping her balanced and on her feet. She didn’t recognize the Purple-Dusk Prince, and she was tired enough and frightened enough to be wary. She jerked her arm free, the drained Gray swinging against her breasts. Juliette knew she ought to vanish it, and call in her Green. But was was too tired.
“Lady, are you alright?” Was she? Juliette didn’t think so. She was too bone-weary, to heart-sick to be able to claim being alright. Her eyes closed, scrunching her face to keep the tears at bay. She pressed her hand to her stomach.
“No, my friend, I am not.” She’d always known the cost of Shalador’s freedom would be high. She’d never imagined what it would require her own hands to enact.
The man regarded her with gentle blue eyes, and he drew her close, wrapping protective arms around the small form that did not resist the embrace.
“You have freed us, I know that it is little comfort. But we are grateful.”
Juliette abruptly pulled away, and glared up at the man, with sickened eyes.
“I have saved no one.” With that, she continued her way home, soaked to the bone.”
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