#weeee drabble

He just couldn't get her out of his head. The little Scottish princess who he'd hated and admired and wanted, all at the same time. And now she was dead and he couldn't stop thinking about her. It was like she was standing over his shoulder and whispering in his ear, and he couldn't take it, not now. Not when escape was so close, and maybe the killer would still come after them when Versailles was closed, but at least there would be more room to run. More places to hide. And less people to suspect, because in a place as big as the world, Julian didn't have many friends, and not many people could get close to him. He would stay safe, he would keep his family safe, and Caroline safe, and even Joline, if she would let him. But he hadn't been able to save her.

Not when it really mattered.

His head felt too small for his thoughts, and as he brought his fingertips up to his temples he could almost feel the headache beginning, right behind his eyes and spreading out, all over him. An ache and a pain that hadn't left him since she died. How strange--ironic, even--that she would be the first to be attacked and the last to die. If only she'd listened for once. If only there'd been more guards around, or if only someone else--anyone else, anyone Julian didn't care about--had walked out into that garden and had their throat slit from ear to ear. Anyone but her... but it had been Arabella. She was dead.