Their meal was meager and uninspiring. Nearly-stale bread was served with a communal dish of liquid that looked to be somewhere between a broth and a gravy. The men squabbled over it, though whether that was because it was a delicacy or simply because it softened the bread into an edible state, she couldn’t be sure. Whatever it was, she chose not to partake, instead breaking off tiny pieces to spare her teeth.
Apples were provided, and Hazel managed to find one without marred flesh or signs of rot. Even so, it tasted off. She sighed, waiting for something more substantial.
A few of the competitors of noble houses complained about being seated and fed amongst the rabble, but they were quickly reminded that their participation was voluntary—if they didn’t like it, they could leave.
Without warning, a behemoth of a man, still in chains, rose from the table and turned on his handler. The heavy iron cuffstruck the man upside his head, rendering him unconscious. The beast in chains roared at the onlookers, daring anyone to move.
One knight thought to approach from behind, slinking beneath the table for stealth. To Hazel’s surprise, he leapt for the giant’s shoulders, but he was too slow. In an unnatural burst of speed, he whirled on the knight, catching him in midair and spiking him to the ground with little effort. The knight didn’t move.
But all it took was a well-placed arrow—severalwell-placed arrows—and the angry man-beast was put down. A collective sigh of relief spread through the dining hall when it became clear he would not rise again.
And just like that, dinner was over.
A LIVING NIGHTMARE
Slaide watched from his seat as the competitors filed in, listening to the names as they entered. When at first he didn’t see Hazel, he worried she might have already gotten herself into trouble.
But at last, he spied the top of her auburn head bobbing as she brought up the back of the line. It was shocking to see such a stark difference between her and the men that surrounded her. They were so much larger, so much more intimidating than she was. He hoped she would remember to use that to her advantage.
The announcer called her name as she walked into the makeshift stadium the king had set up in the tilt yard. Of course, the men around him were quick to comment on things that set his pulse pounding.
“Hazel Callahan… of Larksridge… representing—no, that’s not right, excuse me. Participating as a captive of the crown, held on charges of… conspiracy and unauthorized magic use… as well as assault on a knight of the King’s guard.”
Murmurs rose in the crowd, and Slaide watched as her opponents glanced at one another. It would be a double-edged sword, but one they could hopefully use to their advantage. Foron one hand, the target on her back became exponentially larger for those who wanted to remove her expeditiously. On the other hand, more than a few of them would likely steer clear of an accusedwitch.
He was counting on the latter.
When her gaze met his, it wasn’t lost on Slaide how her posture changed. She relaxed, if only for a moment. He lost sight of her again as she took her seat among the others.
The briefing was quick. Painfully quick. The rules were laughable, in that there were almost none. He’d half expected a rule against magic usage, under the guise of it providing an unfair advantage. But then again, Magnus still wanted to see her powers for himself. He needed solid proof.
The pair was reunited briefly on the way to the castle gardens, where the hedge maze awaited.
“Well?” Slaide asked by way of greeting.
“Dinner was awful. They killed one of the competitors. Granted, he killed two men first…”
A moment later Slaide discerned why she trailed off. The gargantuan hedge loomed before them, stealing her breath. He’d almost forgotten most people hadn’t seen such a thing before.
“Hazel,” Slaide started, grabbing her arm, “you can do this. Don’t worry about what anyone else does. Lay low, stick to the shadows, and keep moving no matter what.”
Her face twisted in an expression he couldn’t read as she looked over his shoulder.
“Hazel, look at me. Look. At. Me.” She did.
They were nearly to the hedge. Most of the competition had already entered, and the crowd was thinning.
“Worry about no one but yourself. Do not under any circumstances help anyone. Do not trust your senses, for they will likely betray you. And for the love of all the bastard gods, Hazel, do not stop moving.”
Still, she said nothing. What he wouldn’t give for any sign of confidence out of her, something to show she hadn’t given up.
At last, they faced the labyrinth. He stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder. Two knights approached, pushing him back from her and stepping between them.
She finally looked back at him, eyes glistening as the living wall behind her shuddered and groaned.
“Give ‘em Hel, Hazel,” he called to her. “I’ll see you on the other side.”
The knight to her left gave a brutal shove, and she fell to her knees just within the hedge.
