No one noticed when I snuck back in to the Capulet house because they were all preoccupied with Tybalt’s funeral. Juliet wasn’t in her room when I came in, but I knew she would be back eventually. I was about to plunge back into a nightmare of royal proportions, but after spending the previous evening with the people I loved most, I felt like I could conquer the world. Benvolio had obediently gone home when my parents told him to. He looked forlorn, but if all went well, it wouldn’t be long before I saw him again, and then we wouldn’t have to say goodbye. For good or for ill, everything was about to change dramatically, and our precarious future sparkled.

The bedroom door creaked open, and Juliet entered. She was dressed in black. Her eyes were red and her face was wet with tears. She gasped when she saw me, and then turned angry. “Where have you been? Terrible—terrible things have been happening!” A jagged sob escaped her.

“I know,” I said, running towards her. “I’m so sorry— I couldn’t come back. I was in jail.”

“What?” she asked. “What did you do?”

“I saved someone’s life,” I said. “That’s the short answer, anyway. My parents got me out, but of course they wouldn’t let me go running off without an explanation.”

“That doesn’t make any sense at all,” she said. “But I’m not surprised that no one noticed you were gone. We’ve just come back from…from the funeral.” She sank down onto her bed. The happy little girl I had left yesterday was gone.

I sat down beside her and hugged her tightly. “I’m so sorry,” I said again.

“Everything is all wrong,” she whimpered. “Everyone thinks I’m sad because of Tybalt. He never liked me, and I didn’t like him, but—but I didn’t want him to die. And my—my husband killed him. Oh, Romeo!” She sobbed the same words she’d sighed over yesterday with such violent delight.

A deep hatred of Romeo rose up within me, as she continued to sob. Nothing, not even love, gave him the right to drag this lovely, willful child into such a deep hell. If they had tried, the Montagues could not have contrived a more complete or perfect revenge.

Guilt lacerated me as I realized what she’d had to endure alone while I’d been so happy. “Long is the night that never finds the day,” I said finally. “We’re going to get out of here, I promise.”

There was a loud rapping on the bedroom door. We both jumped.

Lady Capulet’s voice came from the other side of the door: “Daughter! Are you up?”

Juliet and I froze.

She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, trying to pull herself together. “I am, Mother.”

Lady Capulet swept into Juliet’s room. She was clearly mourning in style. “Why, how now, Juliet?” She crossed the room and sat on the other side of Juliet.

Juliet drew a deep, shuddering breath, her face whiter than ever. “Madam, I am not well.”

Her mother frowned. “Evermore weeping for your cousin’s death? Tears will not make him live, sweet. A little grief shows much love, but too much grief shows a lack of sense.” She patted her daughter awkwardly on the shoulder.

I stared at Lady Capulet, utterly bewildered.

Juliet’s lip trembled. “Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.”

Lady Montague tried another tactic. “Perhaps you weep not so much for Tybalt’s death as for the fact that his murderer still lives.”

And that is probably how the feud began, I thought.

Juliet flinched. “His murderer?”

Lady Capulet gave her the “are you dense?” look. “That villain, Romeo.”

“Villain and he be many miles apart,” said Juliet quietly.

My heart went into my throat. This was it. She’d lost her mind. They would find out everything.

But Juliet continued. “May God pardon him. I do—with all my heart—yet no man has grieved my heart as much as he.” The tears were trickling down her face again.

She’d saved it. Barely. My heart was throbbing in my throat.

Lady Capulet, who clearly wasn’t listening, said “That is because the murderer still lives.”

I saw a gleam of bitterness flicker in Juliet’s eyes as she decided on her role. “Yes, Madam. I wish that I could avenge my cousin’s death myself.”

Lady Capulet broke into an awful smile. “We will have vengeance for it, fear not, so weep no more. I’ll send someone to Mantua who will give Romeo such a strange drink that he’ll soon keep Tybalt company. And then I hope you will be satisfied.”

I made a mental note to tell Benvolio to tell Romeo to be on the lookout for poison.

Juliet gripped the arms of the chair until her knuckles were white. “Indeed, I shall never be satisfied until I see Romeo—” Her face was drained of almost all color, she was not enough of a hardened actor to calmly say that she wanted Romeo dead. “Dead—is my poor heart with grief for my cousin. Madam, if you could find a man to bear a poison, I would brew it myself so that Romeo should soon sleep in quiet. Oh! My heart abhors to hear him named, without being able to go to him—and wreak the love I bore my cousin upon him.”

Personally, I thought Juliet was laying it on a little thick, but she does get her melodramatic streak from her mother. Her use of double meanings was impressive.

The hideous smile had not left Lady Capulet’s face as she dabbed at Juliet’s tears with her handkerchief. “Find you the means, and I’ll find such a man. But now I’ll tell you joyful news, girl.”

Joyful? Joyful news from Lady Capulet was usually bad news for the rest of us.

Juliet looked as if she were going to be sick. “Joy comes well in such a needy time. What are they, I beseech your ladyship?”

“Marry, my child,” said Lady Capulet, who, clueless as she was, was also good at throwing in double meanings, “Early tomorrow morning, the Count Paris, at Saint Peter’s Church shall happily make you a joyful bride.”

We stared at her in complete bewilderment. She must have finally lost her mind.

“Tomorrow?” I said.

“A bride?” repeated Juliet.

“Yes,” said Lady Capulet, looking frighteningly cheerful. So, this was the real reason she had come.

Juliet stood up. “He will not make me a joyful bride so quickly! Why must I wed before I am wooed? I pray you tell my lord and father, madam, I will not marry yet. And when I do, I swear it shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, rather than Paris. Joyful news indeed!”

Lady Capulet took a step back, furious. “Here comes your father, tell him so yourself!”

Lord Capulet never came up to Juliet’s room. Yet, here he was, sauntering through the door, looking entirely too happy for someone in mourning clothes. “Well, wife?” he said jovially. “Have you delivered to her our decree?”

Lady Capulet turned to him, looking like a thundercloud. “Ay, Sir, but she will not marry! I wish the fool were married to her grave!”

I opened my mouth, but fortunately I was too shocked to make any sound.

“What?” said Lord Capulet, utterly flabbergasted “Does she not give us thanks? Is she not proud? Does she not count herself blessed, unworthy as she is, that we have found so worthy a gentleman to be her groom?”

Juliet tried to placate him. “Not proud you have, but thankful you have. I could never be proud of what I hate, but thankful for hate that is meant as love.”

Naturally, she failed. The logic went completely over Lord Capulet’s head. For several minutes, he could only splutter “How?” over and over, till he finally recovered his powers of speech to rage at her: “Chopped logic? What is this? ‘Proud’ and ‘I thank you’ and ‘I thank you not’ and yet ‘not proud?’ Mistress, thank me no thankings nor proud me no--prouds, but fettle your fine joints to go with Paris to Saint Peter’s Church, or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither! Out, you baggage! You tallow-face!” He added on a few other names that no father should ever call anyone, let alone his daughter.

Angry as she was, even Lady Capulet was shocked at his behavior. “For shame! Are you mad?”

Juliet was terrified. She, proudest of the proud, knelt before him, clutching at his robes. “Good father, I beseech you on my knees—hear me with patience but to speak a word—”

Lord Capulet was not to be placated. “Hang thee, young baggage, disobedient wretch! I tell you, get yourself to church tomorrow or never after look me in the face! Speak not, do not answer me—my fingers itch.” He raised his fist menacingly. I stepped towards him, furious, as he continued ranting to his wife: “Wife, we scarce thought ourselves blessed that God had lent us but this only child, but now I see this one is one too many! We have a curse in having her! Ungrateful wretch!”

This was too much. I rushed to Juliet’s defense, full of anger and little thought. Though Juliet certainly was maddening, he had no right to misuse her so. “You are to blame, my lord, to scold her so!”

Lord Capulet rounded on me with a surprising amount of sarcasm. “And why, my Lady Wisdom? Hold your tongue, you spawn of traitors!”

“I speak no treason!” I cried, helping Juliet up.

“Leave us! Immediately!” he said.

I held my ground. “I will not.”

He was beginning to turn purple. “Peace, you mumbling fool! Utter your gravity over a gossip’s bowl, for here we need it not!”

Lady Capulet must have been reluctant to lose her permanent babysitter, for she tried once again to calm him down. “You are too heated, my lord.”

Lord Capulet began to swear profusely. The civilized part of his speech went something like this: “It makes me mad! Day, night, work, play, Alone, in company, still my care hath been to have her married. And having now provided a gentleman of noble parentage, stuffed, as they say with honorable parts, proportioned as one’s thought would wish a man—and then to have a wretched, whining girl to answer ‘I’ll not wed, I cannot love, I am too young, I pray you pardon me!’ Graze where you will, you shall not house with me! Think on it, I do not jest. Thursday is near. If you be mine, I’ll give you to my friend; if you be not—Hang! Beg! Starve! Die in the streets! For by my soul I’ll never acknowledge thee, nor what is mine shall never do the good!”

He stormed out, leaving a terrible silence in his wake.

Juliet, stood there for a moment there for a moment with ashen looks, tears gathering like summer rain. She turned to her mother and burst into tears as she clutched at her mother’s garments. “Is there no pity sitting in the clouds that sees into the bottom of my grief? Oh, sweet my mother, cast me not away! Delay this marriage for a month, a week! Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed in that dim monument where Tybalt lies!”

Lady Capulet disentangled herself from her daughter and pushed her away. “Talk not to me, for I’ll not speak a word. Do as thou will, for I have done with thee!”She swept out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

Juliet and I sat there for a few moments in silent shock, staring at the door where her parents had been. All the child had gone out of her.

“Speak comfort to me, Nurse,” she said quietly.

I weighed my words carefully. “It’s a harsh kind of comfort, but you’ll find it sweet in the end, I hope. There is nothing left for you here, Juliet. We must leave this city as soon as possible. I know a man who will help us.”

She nodded, pondering. “We can leave when we go to confession this afternoon. Get me some water, so that I may wash my face, and then tell me the rest.”

When I returned with a basin full of water and a clean cloth, Juliet had closed the windows in her room and the doors to the balcony. “Very good,” she said as I set the basin on the table. “Now, tell me your plan.” She began dabbing at her face with the cloth.

“Instead of going to Friar Lawrence’s we’ll make our way to the west gate, near the cemetery. Once I get word out, there will be horses waiting. We’ll ride to Mantua to get Romeo, and then go on to Genoa, where we’ll all be safe.”

“Why Genoa?” she asked. “It’s a long way.”

“That’s partly why,” I said. “I’ll get to the other part in a minute. We won’t be able to take much—just whatever we can carry in our pockets. Do you have any money?”

Juliet shrugged. “A little. And I have my jewels. Do you have any?”

“I have enough. I’ve been saving a little,” I replied.

She began applying her make-up. “It’s that masked man, isn’t it? The one you saved from Tybalt.”

I glanced around the room, praying no one was listening. “Yes,” I said. “How did you know?”

“I’m not completely stupid, you know,” she said. “You wouldn’t risk your life for just anyone. But who is he, really?”

I had been dreading this ever since I got back. “He’s Romeo’s cousin, Benvolio Montague.”

Juliet cocked her head to one side, looking as if she’d seen everything. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“No,” I said. “We met quite by accident last winter when I was out running errands. He was…very charming. I didn’t want to become friends with him. It just sort of happened. When you and Romeo met, everything became serious really quickly. The long and short of it is that we’re going to be married as soon as we reach Genoa.”

Juliet stared at me for a long time without saying anything. “You mean to tell me that all this time, you’ve been involved with a Montague?” she said finally.

“Yes.” I said.

“The only reason I’m not shouting at you right now is that my psycho parents will hear me,” she said, looking furious.

“I realize that,” I replied.

“Why, in the name of—anything—have you been so upset about me and Romeo?” she asked, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration.

“Because my father hasn’t sworn vengeance on the Montagues and didn’t decide to kill Benvolio when I told him that we’re going to get married if we live that long. I knew it wasn’t exactly prudent, but Benvolio is rather persistent.” I couldn’t help but smiling at the thought of him. “You see, my heart isn’t actually made out of stone.”

The tight anger on her face softened a little. “But you’re going to marry him? Since when?”

I grinned, giddy once again. “Since last night. Now you know how I feel.”

“I didn’t even know Romeo had a cousin,” she said. “What does he look like? Did you know he was Romeo’s cousin?”

“Of course I knew,” I said. “He told me all about his crazy family. He doesn’t look anything like Romeo.”

“I see,” she said. “And how did you end up in jail?”

“Rosaline,” I said. “She denounced us in hopes of finally getting revenge for when Benvolio and I gave him a thrashing. Fortunately, Prince Escalus likes both of us and my parents were able to bail us out.”

“I see,” she said again. “I want more details later, but we need to get moving.”

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” I said cautiously.

She shrugged. “I have too many other things to be upset about. Send word however you can to your…man. I’ll gather up what I can, and then we’ll leave as soon as you get back.”

“Yes, my lady,” I said. “By the way, that last speech sounded disturbingly like me.”

She flashed me a weak smile. “I’m stealing your method of using sarcasm to cope.”

First, I slipped into my room and dug out the money I had saved for emergencies. Then I went in search of Benvolio.

He was easy enough to find. He was unloading a wagon full of carpets on the very edge of Capulet territory. When he saw me, he quickly deposited it inside a building and hurried out to me. “And how might I serve your ladyship?” he asked, hiding his concern with a smile as he steered me into a shady corner where we could talk mostly unnoticed. “I do actually work, from time to time,” he said in a lower voice. “But tell me what’s going on?”

“We’re ready for you,” I said. “The Capulets are trying to marry Juliet off to Paris. Tomorrow.”

“That’s a bit inconvenient,” he agreed. “I see they’ve finally lost what’s left of their minds.”

“How soon can we leave?” I asked.

“This afternoon,” he said. “Everything is ready. I was afraid something like this would happen. I’ll be waiting for you by the west gate, just like we planned.”

“I’ll be there,” I said, praying it would be so.

He kissed my hand. “Don’t be long.”

I smiled. “Your service is unparalleled, my lord.”

Juliet was waiting for me at the garden gate. She had twined a few late flowers in her hair. As we went out the garden gate for the last time, she stopped to look back at it. “It’s a beautiful prison, isn’t it?” she said bitterly.

“Yes,” I replied. “That’s what I thought when I first came.”

She was silent for a moment, thinking. “We should go to Friar Lawrence before we leave. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

“You’re probably right,” I sighed.

When we arrived at the Friar’s, trouble was waiting for us. Paris was talking with Friar Lawrence as we walked in the door. We both glanced at each other, silently agreeing to leave as quickly as we came in, but it was too late.

“Look, sir, here comes the lady,” said the Friar.

I wanted to strangle him.

Paris advanced towards Juliet, his arms flung wide with all the idiotic confidence of a man who thinks he has his way. “My lady and my wife!”

Juliet drew back, looking as if she were going to be sick. “That may be so, sir, when I am a wife.”

Paris clasped her hands in his. “You will be, love, on Thursday next.”

Juliet smiled the ‘I will murder you first’ smile. “What must be, shall be.”

“Come you to make confession to this Father?” asked Paris, not releasing her.

“To answer that would be confessing to you,” Juliet replied.

Paris pulled her closer, still smiling idiotically. “Do not deny to him that you love me.”

With great effort, she pulled herself together to play her old coquettish self. “I…will confess to you, my lord, that I love him.” She batted her eyelashes and gestured to the Friar. “As a daughter must love and honor her Father’s wishes.”

Paris looked bewildered. “And also, that you love me, I am sure.”

She clicked her tongue. “Oh, it’s a dangerous thing to say that to a man’s face.”

He cradled her face in his hand, su softer for a moment so that I almost pitied him. “Poor soul, your face is much abused with tears.”

Makeup can only do so much. Perhaps some far-off intelligent part in him sensed how shattered Juliet was. Juliet shrugged him off gently by reaching for her handkerchief. “The tears have got small victory by that, for it was bad enough before their spite.”

Paris shook his head. “You wrong it more than the tears by saying that.”

She smiled bitterly. “That is no slander sir, which is a truth. And what I spoke, I spoke it concerning my face.”

To which Paris replied, “Your face is mine, and you have slandered it.”

I let out an indignant gasp before I could stop myself, and covered it badly with a fit of coughing. Fortunately, Paris was too engrossed in Juliet to notice.

Juliet drew away from him. “That may be so, for it is not my own. Turning to Friar Lawrence, she pleaded “Are you free, holy father, now, or shall I come at evening mass?”

Friar Lawrence bowed expansively, putting himself between Paris and Juliet. “My leisure serves me, pensive daughter. My lord, we must entreat some time alone.”

Paris inclined his head respectfully. “I shall never disturb such piety, but I would have a word with your nurse, if I may.”

“Of course,” said Juliet, looking panicked.

He was still wearing that revolting smile. “I shall come to you tomorrow morn. Until then, farewell and—” before we could stop him, he strode forward and kissed her. “Keep this holy kiss.”

With that, he strode out, beckoning for me to follow. I risked a glance back and saw Juliet furiously wiping the kiss off her mouth. The Friar looked even more upset and helpless than he had when he married Romeo and Juliet.

It was all I could do to keep from strangling him once we were outside. “What is it that you wanted, sir?” I asked, my fists clenched, barely containing my rage.

Paris frowned at me as if he remembered me from somewhere before, but couldn’t place me. I had known him, long ago, when I was a child and my father was rich. He said, “A simple thing, good nurse. I know my bride-to-be adores flowers, being a very flower herself. I wish to know what sort of flowers Juliet favors most—I intend to surprise her with them tomorrow.”

I thought for a moment, wondering how to turn this to our advantage. After so many missions to find flowers for Juliet, I knew every flower stall in Verona. There was a flower shop at the east end of the city, opposite our escape route, and I did my best to recall their merchandise. “That is a difficult question, Sir, for my lady loves all flowers. Roses are her true love, but she delights in anything flashy, wild, or obscure. There is a shop, some distance from here, which specializes in rare and exotic blooms, including some unusually lovely roses. If you follow this street to the market, turn left, follow the river until you come to the Bridge of Saint Peter, turn left past the blacksmith’s shop and follow the next street until you reach the Hermes Inn, and follow the old Roman road for about a mile, you’ll come to the flower stand I mean. You can’t miss it.”

“Right,” said Paris, looking utterly confused.

“Just tell them you are there on behalf of the Lady Juliet, and they’ll give you all the help you need,” I added.

“Thank you, good Nurse,” he said, trying to look as if he understood. “I do have one other question. Is there any other means by which I could cheer the lady Juliet? It grieves me to see her grieving so.”

There were a lot of things I wanted to say, none of them polite, but I thought it best to give him good advice, in case everything went horribly wrong again. “She adores all lovely things, sir, but flowers and kind words are the surest way to her heart. Do not be upset with her for tears. A great capacity for sorrow reveals a great capacity for love, but deep wounds must heal with patience.”

He nodded. I don’t know whether he understood these instructions any more than he understood my directions to the flower shop, but he set off down the street with purpose. Poor fool.

I retreated back into Friar Lawrence’s cell. Juliet and the Friar were still in the other room. With freedom so close, and disaster so near, I was impatient to be gone. Benvolio was probably even more impatient, melting outside the city gate in the hot Verona sun. Although, knowing Benvolio, he had probably found a bit of shade and a trader to swap stories with. My thoughts wandered to the still-alive Mercutio. Had the Prince banished him as well for his brash behavior? Where was Romeo, anyway?

After what seemed like an eternity, Juliet emerged from the other room, her sweet face smoldering with quiet anger.

“Shall we go, my lady?” I said.

“By all means,” she snapped.

“What did you tell the Friar?” I asked as I led her out into the heat and down a back alley where we wouldn’t be seen.

“Almost everything, but I didn’t bring any of your problems into it,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said.

She shuddered. “Ugh. I know you think my decisions are terrible, but I think I had a narrow escape not being married to someone as disgusting as Paris.”

“Correct on both counts,” I said grimly. “Patience is clearly in short supply in Verona.”

“I just realized something,” she said as we made our way down the back streets. “When you marry what’s-his-name, we’ll be related.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I said, a grin stealing over my face. “Cousins-in-law, or something.”

The western city gate loomed up in the distance, suddenly looking beautiful. A few people were going in and out. I spotted Benvolio standing in the shadows, holding three horses. Just as I was about to call out to him, Paris, Lord Capulet, and Lady Capulet blocked our path. They looked far from friendly.

“Stop right where you are,” growled Lord Capulet.

Juliet swallowed her dismay and feigned innocence. “What’s wrong, Father?”

He shook his finger at her. “Don’t play the innocent with me, girl. You’re not going anywhere. Your fiancé met us at the palace and told us he thought you were trying to run away.”

Lady Capulet said, “Not to fear, daughter. Clearly, your nurse has put you up to all of this. She’s been a bad influence on you from the beginning.”

“I told you it was a mistake to trust a Carafa,” Lord Capulet said to his wife. To me, he said, “I would never allow a common criminal to have the care of my daughter. Besides, she is to be married tomorrow. Your services are no longer needed.” He waved his hand with dismissive fury. “Go back to your miserable little family, wench. Do not expect any further pay from us.”

Paris took Juliet’s arm. “Come, my sweet,” he said, leading her away. “You will see things more clearly without this witch to misguide you.”

They dragged Juliet away, and I was left alone in the dusty road.

I didn’t see the cart hurtling towards me until it was almost too late. Just in time, Benvolio shoved me out of the way. We crashed against the wall, gasping.

“They fired you?” he panted.

I nodded, and collapsed into him, utterly at a loss. “What are we going to do?”

He put his arms around me, his chin resting on the top of my head. Now that I was no longer connected to the Capulets, there was no danger of being found out. “I don’t know.”