She scrunched her face in apparent confusion.
“I got her out. It doesn’t excuse what happened or my part in it, and it doesn’t take away any horrors she probably experienced here. But Hazel, I swore I would get her out if it was the last thing I did. And I did.”
“How?” She was nearly breathless.
“The slave tunnels,” he said pointedly.
Everything came crashing down at once. “The nightmares,” she gasped. “The woman… I… That wasn’t me.”
Slaide shook his head. “It was her. It had to be. I don’t know how yet, but it’s like you’re reliving her memories in your dreams. Almost as though we both are.”
Hazel’s shock was visible as her power thrummed against the underside of her skin.
“I realize it’s a bit of a stretch expecting you to trust me, even just this once,” he said, bowing his head as if he’s embarrassed by his actions.
“You really don’t remember any of that night, do you?” He inclined his head.
“No,” she said, “why would I?”
He sighed. “Because you were there the night I captured her. She let herself be captured in order to send you away. Powerful as she was, she couldn’t both fend us off and open the portal for you. She chose you.”
Hazel grew quiet, face twisting as his words landed. “So, you’ve known. All this time, you’ve known?”
“No, Hazel. I didn’t. I won’t lie to you; from day one there was something familiar about you. I felt certain I’d met you before. But I couldn’t place it. I’ve come to realize, as strange as it sounds, that I recognized your scent. It just didn’t occur to me where I recognized it from. Thatwastwenty-five years ago, after all.”
Hazel looked at him thoughtfully, with glassy eyes. “Why did you help her if you were just going to turn around and do the same thing to other women, witches or not? Let’s pretend I believe you, which I’m not sure I do. How could you pick up where you left off like nothing happened?”
Slaide looked as though he’d prepared for that very question.
“I do what I must to survive, but for the most part, I don’t… hurt them. You hear and see the same things as everyone else, so you know that word of mouth does wonders for a reputation, especially a bad one. Play the role of the bad guy, dress the part, get your hands dirty every now and then, and people stop questioning the validity of the rumors. Yes, I hunt magical creatures. I spend most of my days now hunting those monsters coming across the Border. When he commands me to arrest and execute a witch…” he paused, appearing to search for the right words. “He would be presented with a token representing their fate. A necklace. A wedding band. A lock of hair. Rarely a live witch, and never a body. The problem is, the charade has runits course. Magnus has started calling my bluff—or at the very least has grown suspicious—and is now having his Bloodseekers swoop in after me to tie up any loose ends. Which as you can imagine is undoing many years’ worth of work.”
“You mean to tell me that you, Slaide Elias, hunter of witches and monsters for the High King of Aeos, have actually been undermining His Majesty this entire time?”
Without acknowledging the truth, Slaide smiled. “Don’t forgetFallenborn whelp.”
Hazel smiled, but it was brief. A conflicted look overtook her features, and her hand rose to her pendant. Before she reached it, Slaide caught her hand.
“You don’t need that, you know. You’re safe with me.”
Her eyes roamed his face expectantly. “I don’t know if I want to slap you or kiss you,” she blurted before covering her mouth.
“Do I have a say in the matter?” he asked, watching as her cheeks turned his favorite shade of pink, as her eyes dipped to his mouth before returning to his gaze. And he moved—cautiously in case she was planning on smacking him instead.
Someone nearby cleared their throat. “Master Elias, I do not mean to interrupt?—”
“Then don’t,” Slaide growled as he pulled away from her to find a mousy, middle-aged servant standing a few paces away.
“Yes, sir, I apologize, but His Majesty is requesting your presence back in the ballroom for the presentation of the prince’s gifts.”
He rolled his eyes. “We’ll be there shortly.”
“Yes, Master Elias. Please see that you do,” he said, his voice curter than it had any right to be.
“I said we’ll be thereshortly. You’re dismissed.” Slaide snipped.
“Yes, sir.” The man bowed and took his leave. Slaide’s spiteful gaze followed the poor servant until he was out of sight.
He sighed, looking Hazel over once more. She looked embarrassed, gaze averted and cheeks flushed.
