“Here I thought you were coming to me as a friend, to offer support and let me in on the plan to get me out of here. But no, you just had to rub salt in my wounds, didn’t you? You’ve changed, Ezekiel, and not for the better.”
A furrow formed between his dark brown brows. “Plan to get you… Hazel what are you talking about?”
She watched as realization smacked him in the face. And smiled. He actually had the audacity to smile at her, and it was the darkest expression she’d ever seen on his face.
“Oh, Hazel. Don’t tell me your boyfriend said he was going to get you out of here?” He shook his head mockingly. Zeke stepped up to the cell and held the bars in his hands. An obsidian stone ring inlaid with onyx glinted upon his right ring finger. “I warned you. I told you Slaide was bad news back when you crossed his path in the market. But you just had to see for yourself, didn’t you?” His eyes shone with a darkness she didn’t recognize.
“What happened to you, Zeke?” she questioned, a sadness lacing her tone. A sharp pain stabbed through her as she accepted the friend she thought she knew was gone. Replaced by a brainwashed monster.
“What happened tome?That’s rich, coming from you. You’re awitchfor fuck’s sake. A witch in a kingdom sworn against magic. That’s not the person I grew up with. How can you sit there and ask me how or why I’ve changed when you’ve changed most of all? Hazel, my family has suffered greatly by the presence of un-tithed magic wielders in this kingdom. They’re supposed to report to the monolith on the Tithe day following their manifestation and give their magic over to power the Border. They get a tracker implanted that allows the Magistry to monitor their magic levels throughout their life, and terminate them remotely if necessary. To refuse to do so… Hazel, it’s treason. It puts all of us at risk.”
“Do you actually hear the bullshit running out of your mouth? You act like I chose this. You’re insane.”
“No, what’s insane is you keeping this from me for so long. For evading the laws of this land. At one time I might have been able to help you, but now I can’t.”
“You can’t, or you won’t? Choose carefully,” she snapped.
Zeke stared into her eyes, his expression blank. He was so cold. So unfeeling. SonotZeke.
“Goodbye, Hazel,” he responded, turning his back on her for the last time. And just like that, she lost another loved one.
Zeke was dead to her.
Hazel returnedto her corner with ambition after that. She wasn’t going to die behind iron bars, and Agnes wasn’t going to be put to the stake. Not without a fight, anyway.
The next time a guard appeared with a tray of scraps for her to eat, she cleaned her plate. It wasn’t much, but it helped to settle the massive void that had developed within her. She gathered the old blanket and returned to her corner to rest. But her hunger for food was replaced by something deeper. She was hungry for vengeance.
She wasn’t expecting any visitors the rest of the night, so she spent her quiet hours planning and plotting. There were no windows, so she had no idea whether it was night or day. Guards came and went, occasionally bringing food or a cup of water. Every now and then, someone would poke their head in, clearly making sure she was still there.
Sleep finally found her, dragging her down with it. She’d been asleep for mere minutes when she was startled awake by the familiar grate and groan of the cell door opening. She was instantly alert, wiping the sleep from her eyes and pulling back into her shadows.
The guard entered without a word and didn’t so much as look for her. He didn’t even glance toward the corner where Hazel hid. He simply came in, set her tray down, and left as quietly as he’d come, with only the groaning door to mark his exit.
Well, that was certainly unusual.
A flurry of movement—an orange blur—caught her eye. And to Hazel’s surprise, someone else slipped in just before the doorclosed. Or rather,something.A big, orange cat. He slunk into the shadows and slipped between the bars of her cell, at last finding his place by her side, purring deeply.
“You poor thing. Probably wondering where I was, huh? Shh, it’s alright.”
Hazel waited a while before going to investigate, passing the time by scratching her companion’s head and listening to his contented purrs. Whatever he’d left, it smelled… fresh. The fact that it had any smell at all was something in itself. But the fact that the smell was warm, buttery—and with a hint of honey—well, she was practically drooling.
When she could no longer stand it, she all but ran to the tray of food to find a steaming bowl of baked apples and a pastry. That must have been where the heavenly smell was coming from.
Gods, an outsider would have thought she’d been locked up for weeks as opposed to days, the way she stood over her meal. As loudly as her stomach protested, she wasn’t entirely convinced of it herself.
Wanting to save the pastry for last, she dug into the piping hot apples and nearly melted into a puddle with how perfectly cooked they were. The caramelized sugar, the unbelievably soft yet still crunchy apples, and the perfect dash of cinnamon. She eyed the pastry, wondering if it would hold up to the decadent bowl of apples. Setting them aside, she picked up the flaky-crusted delicacy—still warm. She took a large bite, crunching through the layers of exquisite, rich dough, and her eyes rolled back in her head. It was filled with tart dragonberry.
She took another bite, flinching when her teeth met something inedible and hard.
“What in the name of the blustering damned gods?” Hazel hissed through aching teeth. The cat, who’d been weaving in and out of her legs impatiently, paused and looked up at her.
She broke the pastry in two and found a tiny glass vial had been baked into the dessert. After removing it, she pulled the cork stopper and retrieved the rolled parchment within. It was a note:
A little birdie told me you like pastries. Sorry they were out of chocolate in the kitchens. Best I could do given circumstances. Anyway, if you’re reading this it means you didn’t swallow the glass vial. Which is good news, as I’ve heard glass is an unpleasant thing to… you know. One should always pay attention to their food.
—S.
Hazel couldn’t decide if she was elated or annoyed that he’d tampered with her food. She looked at the ruined pastry and rolled her eyes. Her appetite was spoiled by the idea of messages being hidden within and the prospect of accidentally eating them. It gave her way too much to think about, when all she’d wanted to do was enjoy a real meal. She groaned her frustration and sought out the security of her shadowy corner.
