“Better them than us,” Slaide offered with a sigh before reaching for her hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
“For once, I won’t make you ask twice,” Hazel eagerly replied, grasping his hand.
CANDLESTICKS AND THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT
After tucking in for the night, Hazel lit a candle and fetched the small book she’dborrowedfrom the hidden library. She spent far too long fiddling with the lock, but it didn’t budge, and there wasn’t a slot for a key. As she originally suspected, it likely opened with magic and magic alone. Something she had no control over, as if it mattered. It was unlikely her magic was what was needed to unlock the tome, anyway.
She ran her fingers across the runes etched into its surface. They were familiar somehow, as if she’d once known what they meant but long since forgotten. Though she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Witches dealt in the runic language, and considering her mother, well…
It was disconcerting that a book such as this would be left behind in a castle library, in a kingdom that looked upon magic as a sin. Considering runic language was steeped in magic, she had no doubt the book had been stolen from its original owner. Or perhaps left behind in haste.
She sighed, setting the book aside. She knew she should be sleeping with the first trial just hours away, but she couldn’t quiet her mind. All of this was for her mother.Becauseof hermother. Because of powers and Witchbane tea and people near and dear who’d decided lying was safer than the truth.
She’d only just closed her eyes when a knock sounded at her door.
Hazel jolted upright, and realizing it was still dark outside, grabbed the nearest thing she could to defend herself with: a brass candlestick.
The door handle jiggled, and the person on the other side cursed under their breath. When nothing else happened, Hazel loosed a breath in relief.
But then the door burst open, and a body landed just inside the door, still muttering curses.
Hazel raised the candlestick again, and when the intruder stood to their full height, she launched it across the room.
It hit its mark.
“Gods of fucking Caelis!” came the first in a slew of additional curses. A voice she recognized. Slurred slightly, clumsier than normal, but…
“Slaide?” she asked.
“Depends,” he groaned. “If I say yes, are you going to throw something else?”
Shit.She hopped out of bed, crouching beside where he sat on the floor. “Are you…” she caught herself, realizing the pitch of her voice made her sound far too concerned. “Are you alright?”
Slaide rubbed his head, scowling at her. “I’d be much better if I hadn’t been hit with a candlestick. But I’ll manage. Good aim, by the way.” It wasn’t lost on her that he was slurring his words.
“Wouldn’t have had to do it if you didn’t scare the shit out of me.” She crossed her arms over her body.
“Shhhh… you’re being too looouuddd,” he complained.
Hazel rolled her eyes. “Where were you, anyway? Why are you drunk?”
“I’m not drunk,” he insisted.
“Slaide.”
He sighed, hanging his head. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Start with why in all the gods you’re in my room in the middle of the night,” she said.
Slaide looked to the window as if wanting to confirm the hour. “Right. Well, I was at my favorite seedy pub, uh, taking the edge off, and on my way back, was jumped by two men.”
“Gods, Slaide! Why didn’t you start with that?”
He shrugged. “Because they’re both dead in the bushes. That’s not the point. When they thought they had the upper hand, the one man said something about buying the other’s time.” His eyes flitted to hers. “No one else has been here?”
“I—no? Slaide, what is going on?” she pressed, helping him stand.
“Evidently, someone wants you out of the running before this even starts,” he managed.
