Despite her growing concern for her lady, the flower of love is in full bloom in Chimere’s chest. She tries to ignore the feeling—to go about her day as she normally would—but it consumes her every thought, making her desperate to see Julius once more.

Chimere hurries through the market, constantly adjusting her hair and clothes as she goes. She was over the moon when Julius wrote her yesterday asking to meet. It was the last thing she expected, and only confirmed she is right in her affections for him.

As she makes her way to a quieter section of town, she spies Julius waiting in an alley under a canopy of flowers, tucked away from prying eyes. She takes a moment to catch her breath, her cheeks rosy as she approaches.

“Lord Julius?” she says, cheerfully. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

He gives her a breathtaking smile. 

“No matter how long the wait, it is worth it to gaze upon your beauty.”

She giggles, hiding her face in her hands before composing herself enough to speak.

“I must say, milord, I was surprised you wrote me.”

“I hope I wasn’t over stepping?” Julius says with a frown.

“Not at all! In fact, I was entertaining sending you a letter myself. Only, I was uncertain if it would please you.”

He grabs her hands, pulling her closer.

“Nothing would have brought me more joy.”

Chimere’s heart skips and races. She can hardly believe this is real, that Julius Montague is gazing upon her with such loving eyes. She bites the inside of her lip in an effort to contain her growing smile.

“Before we enjoy what little time we have together, I must ask.” He pauses, his gaze growing worried. “Is there something amiss with Romana?”

Chimere sees her in her mind’s eye, dried tears on her cheeks as she stares out the window. Surely, her lady wouldn’t want him to know of her sadness.

“What would ever give you that idea?” she asks unsteadily.

Julius sighs.

“When last we met, I noticed that her mind seemed to be elsewhere. I would love nothing more than to offer my aid should she need it, but she never asks it of me.” He smiles bitterly. “I thought you may have an answer.”

Chimere frowns. She can’t bear the look of sadness in Julius’ eyes; it eats at her heart in a way she has never experienced before. Though her lady’s secret wasn’t hers to reveal, chances were slim Romana would be in the mood to see Julius any time soon and the thought of leaving him worried for so long breaks her heart. She sighs.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you much as my lady has insisted I leave it to her discretion.”

“I see,” Julius says sadly.

“But! I can tell you a little. My lady, you see, she is in love.”

Julius’ eyes widen in surprise.

“In love?”

Chimere nods.

“She truly cares for him. They have been talking for over a year, and—Oh!” She stops herself, hands covering her lips. “I’ve already revealed too much.”

“A year?” Julius says, his disbelief genuine. “Truly?”

“Yes, but please, milord, don’t tell her I told you.”

“And the man who has her affections is not Paris?”

“I’m afraid I cannot say.”

Julius’ jaw clenches. A whole year and he never knew. He takes a deep breath to settle the ire boiling his blood.

“Thank you for your kindness in telling me, Lady Chimere,” he says. “I can rest a little easier knowing at least a little of what has been plaguing Romana’s mind.”

“Not at all! I’m just happy to put your mind at ease.” She beams. “Milady is truly lucky to have you as a friend, milord.”

Julius chuckles. 

“You flatter me. I am the one who is lucky, but, if I may, can you at least tell me how they met?” he says sweetly. “It’s just, I know Romana is under strict watch at all times. Save for when you help her to see me, of course.”

“Well—”

“I promise I won’t tell,” Julius says pleadingly. “It’ll be just between us.”

Chimere searches his gaze.

“Do you promise, milord?”

“Cross my heart.”

She hesitates a moment before sending a silent apology to Romana in her mind.

“From the way milady tells it, she happened to run into him quite literally one day while returning from meeting you. She had been in such a rush to return on time, she wasn’t paying attention and caused him to drop the bottle of wine he was carrying.” Chimere smiles ruefully at the memory. “Her face was completely ashen and her skirts dyed red from the wine when she returned. Luckily, Lord Capulet had been away all afternoon in meetings, so he hadn’t the chance to drop by to see her. I must admit, I was worried myself when the time she should have been back came and gone.”

“And?” Julius presses. “That was it? They simply ran into each other?”

“Well, no. The following day, milady insisted I help her sneak out again so she could find him. She wanted to replace the bottle she had broken. I don’t know if it was fate or just coincidence, but she happened upon him in the same spot they collided the day before. He was carrying a dress.” Chimere chuckles. “He had intended to give it to her to replace her soiled one. They began exchanging letters not too long after that.”

Julius recalls Benvolio returning to the manor covered in wine. He also remembers seeing Romana in that dress as she had gushed about receiving something so fine. He clenches his fist. He had thought it was a gift from her father, and she never bothered to correct him. He forces a smile on his lips.

“What a romantic story,” he says.

“Isn’t it just?” Chimere sighs, lamenting the circumstances that are causing her lady sadness.

“Almost as romantic as ours,” Julius says, pulling Chimere closer. “And it is only just beginning.”

As Julius holds Chimere’s loving gaze, his mind is filled with thoughts of Romana and the punishment she deserves.

⬥⬥⬥

Entering the Sea Maiden Tavern, Benvolio moves through the darkly lit room, making his way toward the back where a table is already set with bread, cheese, and wine. At it sits Lord Capulet, studying his glass with a pensive look. Tybalt stands by his side, eyes scanning the room for threats.

“Lord Capulet,” Benvolio says, bowing his head. “Tybalt.” He pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket and slides it across the table. “Giovani the winemaker has agreed to trade exclusively with you. This is the agreement. The deal will be set after you sign.”

Benvolio’s heart races in his chest. With this, it is done. Finally, after months of negotiating and travel, he will be able to tell Romana they are free to marry. He can see her now, joy bringing tears to her eyes. How he longed to hold her and never let go.

Lord Capulet looks the paper over before tucking it away.

“Impressive," he says. “Once again you amaze me with your accomplishments.”

“You flatter me, milord,” Benvolio says, concealing his excitement.     

“However, I believe we’ve reached the end of this little arrangement.”

Benvolio frowns.

“What exactly do you mean, milord?”

Lord Capulet sips from his glass.

“Paris has more than made his intentions to marry my daughter known,” he says slowly. “To ignore his offer in favor of an orphan boy—a Montague, no less—is a bit insulting.” He chuckles. “I’m sure you understand.”

Benvolio clenches his jaw. 

“But we had an agreement,” he says tightly. 

“And I’ve changed my mind.”

“After everything I’ve done?” Benvolio growls. 

“Watch your tone,” Tybalt hisses, placing his hand on his hilt.

“Secured trade with the Spaniard merchants,” Benvolio continues, ignoring him. “Made a deal with the best black smith this side of Verona. Acquired the deed to an olive farm worth more than its weight in gold! All for you.”

“And I appreciate your efforts,” Lord Capulet says, “but you can’t provide me with what matters most.” His gaze narrows. “A tie to the crown.”

Benvolio clenches his fists. This couldn’t be happening. He had been so close to securing his happiness with Romana—to finally setting her free. He refuses to give up now. He wracks his brain. They could run away, but he didn’t want a life on the run for Romana, constantly looking over her shoulder and wondering when Lord Capulet would find them. He had approached Lord Capulet with his intentions to avoid exactly that. Was there really no other way? As Benvolio starts to despair, Mercutio’s face comes to mind. He holds Lord Capulet’s gaze.

“What if I can?” he says.

“You’re bluffing,” Tybalt scoffs.

“Can you?” Lord Capulet snorts. “A bold claim for a man who has so little.”

“I’ve managed so far, haven’t I? But if I do this, you must keep your word. I secure you a tie to the crown in exchange for Romana’s hand.”

Lord Capulet strokes his beard. 

“You do that, and I’ll give your union my blessing.”

Benvolio sticks out his hand, and Lord Capulet takes it, squeezing tight. Benvolio holds back a flinch.

“But if you fail,” Lord Capulet says slowly, “you will leave me in peace and never show yourself before me again.”

“Deal.”

Lord Capulet laughs humorlessly.

“Good luck, boy. You’ll need it.”

Benvolio leaves, his mind racing with how to accomplish what he promised. Regardless of the rest, the first step is exploiting Mercutio’s connection to the crown. Guilt eats at him at the thought alone, but he can’t afford to hold back for decency’s sake.

Tybalt keeps his eyes on Benvolio until he disappears beyond the door. A sigh escaping him, he turns to Lord Capulet.

“I wasn’t aware you chose Paris for his ties to royalty, Uncle.”

Lord Capulet scoffs as he wipes his hand on a handkerchief, his face scrunched in disgust.

“All I truly care about is keeping Romana somewhere she’ll be safe,” he says sternly. “That Montague boy is hardly fit to do the job.” Lord Capulet rises to his feet. “But if he is willing to go to such lengths, let him. All the more laughable when I deny him his desires once more.”

As the Capulets leave, Friar Laurence, sitting in the shadows of the tavern and puffing on his pipe, watches them with a sly grin.

⬥⬥⬥

Mercutio takes a deep breath, his body shaking. Julius had tasked him with retrieving Romana’s letters to Benvolio. The latest one had just arrived after Benvolio returned. Luckily, he was called away, giving Mercutio the opportunity he needs. With no idea when Benvolio would return, he has to be fast. 

He glances around as he enters Benvolio’s room, closing the door quickly and hurrying to the desk. He shuffles the papers in search of the letter. His trembling hands seem to make the task take twice as long as it should. He can feel the sweat beading on his forehead, his rapid breathing loud in his ears. His eyes race across the pages, and he prays he’ll find what he is looking for. 

Finally, he finds it. Benvolio’s initials written in elegant script greets his eyes. It crushes a part of Mercutio’s heart to take it before Benvolio has had a chance to read what is inside, but his fear of Julius’ cruelty is stronger. He tucks it away in his pocket and carefully shuffles the papers back into place. Though he worries it may still appear as if someone had disturbed Benvolio’s desk, he can’t afford to linger for much longer. 

He places his ear to the door, and cracks it slightly to have a peek. The hall is empty. He hurries outside of the room, closing the door behind him, and hurries down the hall. He hasn’t made it far when he hears his name.

“Mercutio,” Benvolio calls. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

Mercutio’s heart drops and his breath all but leaves him. Had he been caught? What excuse could he possibly give to justify being in Benvolio’s room?

“Wel-welcome back, Master Benvolio,” he says, trying his best to sound unbothered. “Did you enjoy your outing?”

Benvolio’s expression darkens for just a moment before he sighs.

“It was not as productive as I would have liked, but there is little I can do about it. How’re your bruises?”

“Oh!” He tugs on his sleeves. “V-very well since you gave me the cream. Thank you.”

“That’s good to hear. Don't hesitate to seek me out if you ever need more.” Benvolio’s smile falls, his expression hardening. “I have something to ask of you,” he says.

Mercutio starts to tremble. He can feel the prick of tears in his eyes. Already, he has an apology on his lips and his hand in his pocket to return the letter, but what Benvolio says next surprises him. 

“I need your help. More specifically, I need your connection to the crown.”

That was the last thing Mercutio had been expecting. He quickly gathers himself.

“Though I am related to the royal family, it is but a distant relation,” he says weakly.

“Still, you share blood, and it is that blood I need.”

Mercutio shrinks back. No one has ever asked him for help before. He isn’t sure he can provide what Benvolio needs. Not to mention if Julius finds out he gave Benvolio aid, the price he’ll pay will be great. He swallows. He should turn Benvolio down. It is the safer option, but his guilt towards the man is too heavy for him to ignore.

“If you truly think I can be of help, Master Benvolio, then I will give it.”

Benvolio grins and pats him on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Mercutio. Truly. All I need is for you to ask for an audience with his highness. I’ll handle the rest.”

“A-all right. I’ll make sure to send it out as soon as possible.”

“Wonderful. Let me know the second you hear a response.”

Mercutio watches as Benvolio turns back down the hall towards his chambers. Romana’s letter sits heavily in his pocket.

⬥⬥⬥

In the hot afternoon sun, Julius meets Friar Laurence in the back alleys of town.

“Young lord,” he says with a bow of his head. “So nice to see you on this lovely afternoon.”

“You have something to tell me?” Julius says cooly.

The Friar grins.

“It appears the golden boy of the Montague has been playing with the enemy.”

“Explain,” Julius says with a frown.

The Friar scratches his chin, eyes turned to the sky as he recalls what he saw.

“From the sounds of it, Benvolio has been meeting with Lord Capulet in secret for some time. Apparently, he’s been gaining influence for the old lord in a bid for his daughter’s hand.”

Julius laughs, his body doubling over. It is the Friar’s turn to frown.

“Is something wrong, milord?”

Julius collects himself, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“On the contrary,” he says with a sigh. “Nothing could be better. Here I was thinking I’d have to dig Benvolio’s grave, meanwhile he’s been digging it himself this whole time.”

“Is that so?”

“Enough of that,” Julius says. “I want you to keep watching him.”

“Still? Is his dealings with the Capulets not enough?”

“I’ll need more than just one sighting. I’ll need proof.”

“Well, I suppose I can do that for you.” He holds his hand out suggestively, a sly grin playing on his lips.

Narrowing his eyes, Julius empties a sack of coins at the Friar’s feet.

“Someone wake up in a foul mood today?” the Friar grumbles, bending over to grab them.

“Don’t cross me, Friar, or yours will be the next blood I spill,” Julius growls.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, young lord,” he says as Julius leaves, pocketing the fallen coins.