“Gods damn it Slaide, let me go!” she hissed.
“I’m taking you to your rooms, and you’re going to tell me what’s going on. Becausethatlittle stunt you pulled with Pimley wasn’t cute. I worked hard and made promises I have no desire to keep in order to?—”
Her eyes welled. “Have you ever stopped to think about someone besides yourself for even a moment? No. I guess not.”
“Temper, temper. Better get it under control, sweets. Or else I can give you back to Magnus. Who will probably—no, gladly—hand you over to the mages.”
She yanked her arm out of his grasp and turned away, walking in what she assumed—if Slaide could be believed—was now the right direction. After a dozen steps, it was evident he wasn’t following her, so she glanced over her shoulder. “What’re you?—”
He was standing in the same spot, a thin-lipped smile drawn across his face. His arms were crossed, and he had his weight shifted to one side, ever the smug bastard. “Shh.” He shooed her with both hands. “I was taking a moment to admire the view.”
Hazel’s repulsed groan could probably be heard three hallways over as she stomped off.
“For what it’s worth,” he hollered after her, “I was right about the green dress!”
MIRROR, MIRROR
When she arrived back at her rooms, Hazel wanted to collapse into her bed and stay there forever. Though the oils and tinctures were working something akin to magic on her injuries, she still found herself depleted after traversing the many stairwells and corridors. She stopped at the double doors and leaned forward, thumping her forehead against the wood. She huffed a breath.
Footsteps sounded down the hall behind her. Gods, she just wanted rest.
Slaide, unfortunately, wanted to talk.And she was in no shape to fight him on it.
She pushed one door in, stumbling into the room and just out of reach.
“Hazel,” he grumbled. He’d been trying to chat the entire walk back to no avail.
A well-timed release of the door left it slamming in his face.
She limped across the room and plopped herself onto the bed, a sigh of relief escaping her lips as she sunk into the down-filled duvet. Her momentary bliss was interrupted by the doors crashing open, and she found herself sighing a second time, exasperated by his persistence.
“Hazel.”
Maybe if I just lay here, he will leave me alone.
“I have all day, sweets.” He plucked an orange cat hair off his jacket, pondering it for a moment before discarding it on the floor.
She rolled over, grunting her dismissal.
“Look. I don’t know what happened back there, but I am trying to find out so I can… help you? So we can move on from this… whatever this is.”
“Go. Away.”
“No can do. Your leash may be longer than most, but make no mistake—you’re still tethered to me.” He crossed the room, approaching her side of the bed.
“Then maybe you should pull it a little tighter,” she said as she rolled away from him.
The air was snatched out of the room, leaving a deafening silence between them. She turned to look at him, only to find his stare had darkened, giving him an uncomfortably feral expression.
“Say that again,” he growled.
Nope. Not doing that.She rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She sat up halfway, adjusting the green dress.
Slaide relaxed and walked over to the window, looking out over the stable yards.
Hazel took a deep breath. “All of the rules, preparing for this tournament, all the adjustments… it’s just so much. I didn’t ask for any of this.” She looked at her hands. Cursed hands and cursed powers. She hadn’t asked for any of it, and it was ruining her life. “I have always been a plain, simple person. A nobody. Pa and I lived on our farm forever. Our cottage and the inn are where I’ve spent most of my time, and up until a few days ago, I’d never been outside of Larksridge. My entire world has beenturned upside down, and my own father doesn’t even know I’m alive.” She dropped her face into her hands.
“So, tell him,” Slaide said as if it were really that simple.
