No. “Yes.”
And then they were moving. Every step came so much easier under his lead. They spun and twirled and hopped about, waltzing across the room in perfect time. Pimley crossed his arms, looking pleased with the performance. Neither of them spoke, their bodies expressing more than words could. And Hazel was… loose… relaxed …the movements flowing smoothly even as they approached the most difficult part of the dance.
She became hyper aware of his hand as it moved to the small of her back, nearly melting into him. Everything about his touch, his movement, was disarming and comforting at the same time. She leaned into it, finding it hard not to savor the warmth at her back and the strength of the arms holding her.
She waited for her feet to get crossed again, but that moment never came. Instead, Slaide led her with confidence and grace, making her feel more secure than she ever had. She hit the steps perfectly and rolled into Slaide’s body, falling into his arms as he dipped her low. He leaned over her, pulling her face closer to his. They were both panting, staring deep into one another’s eyes. The look stretched on, perhaps a tad too long.
The locket was a steady reminder of the danger she was in, but Hazel ignored it.
Behind them, Pimley cleared his throat rather aggressively. “Ahem. Master Elias…”
Slaide nearly dropped Hazel on the floor as his senses returned. He bowed to her, stood straight, and retrieved his cloak from the floor as ifthathadn’t just happened.
Slaide clapped Pimley on the shoulder. “You’re doing great, my friend. Keep up the good work. At this rate, I will have a competent dance partner by the ball, I’m sure.”
“Of course, Master Elias. Good day.” He turned to Hazel and smiled. “I think you’ve earned a break, Mistress Callahan. Please see you get something to eat and be off to bed at a decent time. I’ll see you bright and early. You’re dismissed.”
Thank the gods.Because after that, she needed someone to dump a bucket of cold water on her head. Or perhaps she should just go jump in the lake.
Yeah, definitely the lake.
SPARRING WITH A MONSTER
Hazel’s bare feet padded across the cold stone floor. She flexed her wrists, feeling the weight of the iron manacles there. Between them was an iron chain, which led to the hand of her captor. She’d gotten used to seeing through these eyes that weren’t her own and feeling with the fine, slender fingers belonging to someone of nobility.
Walking before her was the strange, winged man from the last nightmare. At least, he was a man in form, though his size and stature was somewhere between a god and a demon.
His raven-feathered wings were reminiscent of the storybook depictions of the mythical angelic beings she’d seen as a child, except for their color. The iridescent, oily black were unlike any known angel. Angel wings were almost always pristine white, sometimes golden, and rarely grey. Never black.
Wavy, shoulder-length black hair was pulled back in a sort of half-up, half-down fashion, presumably to keep the wild mane out of his face. He appeared unarmed, though the realization brought her less comfort than she would have liked. The only reason someone would go unarmed would be if they were lethal even without a weapon. Because theywerethe weapon.
The man paused and turned slowly to face her. For the first time, she recognized something about his face, but couldn’t pinpoint it. His eyes were black orbs, and they stared at her blankly as though under a spell.
Hazel, he said.
Hazel.
Hazel.
“Hazel, time to wake up. You’re snoring loud enough to wake the dead!”Bang, bang, bang.Someone pounded on the door. “Gods of Caelis, Hazel, please don’t make me come in there.”
When she didn’t respond, her bedroom door burst open, revealing a disgruntled Slaide, dressed in fighting leathers. Hazel shot up at the commotion, clutching at the soft comforter and groaning when her unwelcome visitor crossed the threshold.
She pulled the cover over her head. “Go away,” came a muffled demand. Her muscles ached from her hours on end spent learning to dance with Pim, and she was in no mood to get back to work.
“No can do, sweets. We’re doing some off-grounds training today. The trials are fast approaching, and I’m not sending you out there unprepared. Get dressed.” Slaide turned to leave. “Oh, and don’t make me come back in here.”
“Would apleasekill you every now and then?” she asked.
“I don’t beg,” he said through a smirk, closing the door behind him.
The rain subsidedaround midmorning though the clouds remained, casting the realm in a somber grey. Muddy puddlesthwarted many a lady’s efforts to keep their skirts clean, and children peeled away from their caregivers to splash in the largest ones, consequences be damned. Hazel smiled in spite of her own circumstances. Before her, Slaide led the way, completely silent except for his boots squelching in the muck.
Hazel followed close behind him as though they were linked by an invisible tether. It was strange, the way his presence both terrified her and made her feel secure—safe, even. For better or worse, she began to ignore the warning warmth radiating from beneath her clothes. It was clear more than a few castle inhabitants were wary of her, and several gave her the feeling they might cut her down where she stood if not for her escort.
And then there were the ones who would clearly devour her in another way entirely, undressing her with their eyes as she walked by. Somehow, those were worse. Hazel averted her gaze each time, choosing instead to stare at Slaide as though taking her eyes off his back would mean her immediate demise. Thankfully, all whom they passed gave Slaide a wide berth.
She caught whispers passed between the maids and servants. “It’s her” and“Witch”were the most common. But two young children gawked at her as she passed and claimed in not-quite-hushed voices that she’d killed people with her magic. She laughed to herself, until she reminded herself it was a very real risk. Truthfully, she could no longer consider herself harmless. All because her mother was a witch and no one had thought to tell her.
