She said nothing. Her mouth hung agape as she stared at him.
“Hazel, what’re you… what thefuck?”Zeke’s demeanor shifted as Slaide stood and brushed nonexistent dust from his clothes.
“I’m assuming,” Slaide began, “you’ve got life-altering news to share? Otherwise, get the fuck out,” he growled.
Hazel whirled on him. “Stop it, Slaide. Zeke… I?—”
But Ezekiel cut her words off. “Save it. You two areperfectfor each other. An accused witch and the King’s dog.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I do have something rather important to share. You would have heard for yourself, if you weren’t preoccupied with fucking this trash.” He spat on the floor, fists flexing at his sides.
Slaide made to step forward, but she placed her arm in front of him.
“Who I am with isnoneof your concern, Ezekiel Bertram. We are all adults, last time I checked. Free to make our own choices.”
“Free?” Zeke’s voice rose, sounding rattled. “You areanythingbut free, Hazel. Or did you forget? While he’s been parading you around, feeding you pastries, and teaching you how to dance, you’re still a prisoner. You’re fucking your executioner.”
“I’ve heard enough,” Slaide interjected. “Unless you have something important to say, get out. I’m not going to ask again.”
Zeke glowered at them both. He pursed his lips as though considering whether to reveal why he’d busted down the door in the first place.
“Fine.” He relented. “I saw you head this way after our dance. Shortly after you disappeared, Magnus presented the prince’s gifts. He was rather displeased that the two of you couldn’t be bothered to join us,” he sneered as Hazel adjusted the bust of her dress. “Tristan was gifted an Axian Destrier. A stallion.”
Slaide laughed, rolling his eyes. “Well, congratu-fucking-lations to him.”
“I wasn’t finished, dog,” Zeke snapped. “After they walked the horse back out of the ballroom, His Majesty revealed one more gift.” He looked toward Hazel with sympathy in his eyes. “We’re reinstating Court-sanctioned witch hunts. Instead ofrelying onthisone to do his job, Magnus has decided to send his knights door-to-door, town-to-town, seeking out anyone with magic in their blood.”
Hazel stiffened. Slaide’s hand found the small of her back, steadying her—a small comfort.
“As part of the prince’s birthday celebration, they’re kicking off the huntstonightand allowing regular citizens to join in. He’s awarding a prize to anyone who brings the witch in alive.”
No no no. This is not happening. Please, don’t?—
“Hazel, the hunts are starting in Larksridge.”
BREAKING POINT
Hazel could hear nothing over the thundering of her own heart. They were going to Larksridge. To her home. To her father and Agnes.
Agnes.
There was no doubt in her mind that she was the target. And the only thing she was guilty of was existing in a kingdom that didn’t want her.
“They’re gathering the mob now, Hazel. There’s not much time.” Zeke sighed and shook his head. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”
With that, he turned his back on them and left the small room.
“Zeke, wait!” she shouted after him. But he didn’t spare her a glance.
As he departed, the air left Hazel’s lungs. She turned to Slaide.
“That look tells me he’s not bluffing,” Slaide observed. “You have witch friends back home?”
She shook her head. How could she explain Agnes? She sucked in a breath, preparing to speak, but only a squeaky, choked sound escaped her.
“I know, I know. Come with me, quickly, quietly. We’re going to get there first.” But he didn’t know. Not really.
“Slaide, I…” She debated having this conversation now, but what choice did she have? “My aunt. My aunt is the witch.” Her voice cracked. She would not break down here. Could not break down here. “She lives just outside of Larksridge in a cottage. She keeps her home warded but…” She faded off.
“It’s not going to be enough.” He acknowledged, turning with her and bolting inside.
