Maybe he’s right.It certainly gave her something to think about.
“So,” he spoke, changing the subject. “The first trial is tomorrow.”
Nausea overtook her, and her grip tightened on the reins.
Slaide looked over his shoulder. “Stunned into silence?”
“I don’t know what to say. I thought we—I—had more time. I don’t feel ready.” She wanted to crawl into a hole.
“The fun could only last so long, sweets. But, look on the bright side. You’ve got me to tell you what the trial is and what to expect.”
She cocked an eyebrow.
“We really need to work on your thank-yous. Mind you, no one else gets this information ahead of time.”
“Whatever. What’s the first trial then?” she asked.
“An enchanted labyrinth. No rules. Nothing is off the table. The only task is to survive and get out.”
Something was far too easy. She could feel it in the marrow of her bones and her locket warmed in confirmation.
I’m going to die tomorrow.
The pair trekkedfor half the day. It was uneventful—peaceful even—and for that Hazel was grateful. The tension eased out of her. The horses were less uptight as well, their bodies relaxing under their riders, even Nanna.
Hazel took the time to enjoy the sights and sounds the forest offered, trying to ignore the proximity of her demise. Birds chirped and squawked in the canopy while crickets chittered and frogs sang their songs along the forest floor. A pair of fox-eared squirrels darted across their path, causing Nanna to snort her aggravation.
She had no idea who or what Slaide was searching for, since he’d evaded her attempts to get those answers out of him. She grew suspicious that he wasn’t hunting for anything at all, but instead using this as an excuse to get out of the castle walls. And who could blame him? He wouldn’t hear a complaint out of her. She didn’t even mindhiscompany at the moment.
Slaide came to a stop without warning. Well, he had warned her, she just wasn’t paying attention. After almost running Nanna into Phillip’s backside, Hazel became aware of Slaide signaling their halt silently, with his fist in the air. Hearing heroomphbehind him, he darted a disapproving glance over his shoulder. And that was when she noticed it…
When did the forest get quiet?
As if in answer to her thoughts, something whizzed past her head, nearly grazing her ear. She turned to see what it was, only to find an arrow lodged into the tree across the path from her. Her stomach roiled. That tree could have been her head.
“GET DOWN!” Slaide shouted, rolling Phillip back with a tight rein to give Hazel some cover. All at once he was grabbing his hunting bow and leaping from Phillip. He tackled Hazel from Nanna’s back in one swoop. The ground drove the air from Hazel’s lungs, and she’d inadvertently struck Slaide in the belly with her knee, causing him to gasp as well. But he recovered more quickly, hauling Hazel to her knees and forcing her to crawl to the cover of the bushes. With a sharp whistle from Slaide, Phillip took off for his own safety, Nanna close behind.
When the dust settled, it was quiet, save for Hazel’s panting—which felt louder than it probably was. Her eyes were wide as saucers, her face saying what her mouth didn’t dare.
What. Was. That?
Slaide didn’t answer immediately, steeling his gaze on the path before them. He was preternaturally still, the very picture of a helcat stalking its dinner. She watched as his eyes transformed into their other form: those dark, obsidian pools. She was quite certain she could drown in them, even if they were fearsome.
As she watched him, her gaze drifted and she noticed something that caused her to freeze. Slaide had an arrow shaft protruding from his calf.
“You’re hit!” she hissed.
He turned to her, face contorted as though not understanding.
“Your calf. You were hit with an arrow!” It was everything she had to keep her voice low.
As the realization washed over him, Slaide rotated to look back at his leg and sure enough, there was an arrow taking up residence where it didn’t belong. He sighed as though this was just another inconvenience he was used to facing. He worked himself up to a seated position, then without warning, he grasped the shaft and yanked the arrow free, hardly wincing as the arrowhead ripped through his flesh again on its way out.
Hazel, on the other hand, balked when the arrow was torn free. She watched as Slaide examined it in its entirety, going so far as to sniff the feathered fletchings.
“Fucking gobkins,” he muttered. Meanwhile, blood dripped steadily from the untended wound on his calf.
“What’s a gobkin?” Not that it mattered in the grand scheme of things, but she was curious anyway.
