And maybe she should have been more surprised by that. But she wasn’t. She’d known all along she was on borrowed time, and that someone would come for her throat eventually.
“And you’re drunk because?”
“Am I not allowed to drink?” he answered, swaying a bit on his feet.
“Drinking is one thing. Coming back completely inebriated, hardly able to stand, and busting down my door? I know you don’t think I’m that stupid.”
He rolled his eyes in irritation, but relented. “Fine. If you must know, I’m… apprehensive about sending you into the competition tomorrow. I just?—”
“You doubt my ability to stay alive,” she deadpanned. Though if she was honest, she doubted it too.
“No, it’s not that. Okay, well… a little. But only because we haven’t had enough time. Not because you haven’t proven yourself capable.”
Fair enough.It stung, but he wasn’t wrong. They’d had mere days for something others had used a lifetime for: honing their skills and bodies, perfecting their swordsmanship and training in combat…
But his honesty was disarming.
“And it’s notjustthat. I’m dealing with some personal demons I’d rather not get into right now. It’s just… sometimes it helps to drown one vice with another.”
Hazel didn’t press him but made a mental note to ask about it later.
“So,” she began. “Any idea on how I’m supposed to get some sleep without worrying about getting stabbed before morning?”
He didn’t answer. She watched as Slaide stumbled over to her bed and snatched one of the down pillows. He crossed the room, stopping before her as he tossed the pillow onto the floor, never breaking eye contact.
“Absolutely not,” Hazel exhaled, realizing what he was doing.
But Slaide ignored her as he lay down on the floor between the door and the bed.
“I don’t have any say in this, do I?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Not if you want to stay alive.”
Hazel sighed quietly to herself, leaving Slaide on the floor in favor of her bed. Just before she closed her eyes and tucked into the covers, she whispered, “Good night, Slaide.”
But the only response she got was the sound of him snoring.
Hazel sat up slowly,stretching her limbs and letting the shafts of early morning sunlight caress her skin. And it hit her, the alarming sensation she’d forgotten something important.
A loud, grating snore reminded her she wasn’t alone, and her conversation with Slaide the night before came flooding back.
She slid out of the enormous bed and found Slaide curled up on the hard floor. He had the pillow wrapped in a bear hug, and his wings draped over himself in place of a blanket. He looked almost innocent, if she ignored what he was capable of.
His wings were captivating now that she had the chance to see them up close. Feathers an oily black, their sheen in the sun catching deep purple and blue hues.
Watching as Slaide’s chest rose and fell, Hazel had the urge to touch his wing. Maybe if she was careful, if she was gentle…
She leaned in, arm outstretched.
“I don’t recommend that,” Slaide mumbled, eyes still closed.
Hazel startled, stumbling backwards and falling hard on the floor beside him.
Slaide laughed, peeking through one eye.
“That wasn’t necessary.” She frowned.
“Neither was you deciding to touch my wings without asking. Not just without asking but while I slept? I didn’t know you had it in you.”
