“I don’t mean that, smart ass,” he snapped, stepping into her space. “You know damn well you had no business surviving that first encounter. But you did, and your success tomorrow depends on me knowing why. So I can help you.”
“You’re insufferable,” she said, glaring up at him.
“So I’ve been told.”
They had a momentary standoff at the door before Hazel opened it just enough to slip through and disappear inside.
Slaide looked at the ceiling, exasperated. He needed to get things back under control before she got herself in trouble. Well, more trouble.
“I know you’re still there,” she called from within. “Good night, Slaide Elias.”
He couldn’t help the smirk that formed at the corner of his mouth. “Good night, pain in my ass,” he yelled back.
Morning came sooner than Slaide might have liked. But his wakeup call came in the form of a boot in his ribs, and it was difficult to ignore. He groaned as he rolled over, his entire left side numb from sleeping on the hard floor outside her room. Despite her insistence on him leaving, he’d decided against leaving her door unguarded. It was woefully uncomfortable.
“Go away,” he grumbled, eyes still closed.
The foot bumped him again.
“If that foot touches me again, I’m going to tear it off.” He popped one eye open to see who his assailant was and if they dared try it again. He really didn’t want to have to make good on his threat. But when Slaide discovered who loomed over him, he considered making good on it anyway.
Archmage Gammen.
Something akin to a snarl tore from Slaide as he got to his feet with inhuman speed, coming nearly chest-to-chest with the slender man. Gammen, to his credit, took a step back.
“Must you be so violent all the time, Slaide?” he crooned.
Slaide looked at Gammen as though his eyes were daggers and he could cut the man’s heart out where he stood. Damn shame it wasn’t that easy.
“I see you’re not willing to be civil this morning. No matter. I’m not here for you anyway,” he said as he made to step around Slaide toward the door. Slaide, of course, blocked his path—and the door handle.
“I don’t believe there’s anything in there for you,” he growled.
“Oh, cut the territorial beast act, would you? It’s not convincing anymore,” Gammen remarked. Slaide considered bleeding the seedy mage out where he stood, then tossing his corpse out the nearest window.
“You need convincing? That sounds like an invite to a party you don’t want to attend, mage.”
“Except you won’t touch me. You can’t. Besides, I’m here on orders from the healers.” The bastard mage was up to something, Slaide was sure of it.
“I don’t deal with the healers. I deal only with Nemsen. Where is he?” Slaide questioned.
“Who could really say? I haven’t heard a word of him or from him since he was detained yesterday.” Gammen had the nerve to smile, knowing damn well he was delivering news.
Detained.Slaide hid his surprise and feigned disinterest. “I guess it’s true what they say, then. You really can’t trust anyone,” he replied, keeping his voice even. “Which is precisely why you won’t be entering this room.” He crossed his arms.
The door creaked behind him, and Hazel peeked her head out. “Can you keep it down? I’m trying to—” She stopped talking when her eyes landed on the mage, but her hand flew to that damned necklace again.
“Close the door,” Slaide barked over his shoulder. Hazel obeyed.
Gammen appeared to grow flustered, his cheeks flushing. “You have my word. She won’t be harmed.”
Slaide scoffed. “Your word? That’s worth about as much as a pile of Phillip’s manure, maybe less. The answer is still no.”
“Fine. Have it your way,” Gammen warned as he turned on his heel, cloaks billowing around him. “We’ll see what His Majesty has to say about this!” he hollered over the sound of his clopping shoes.
An empty threat. Slaide didn’t give two shits what Magnus thought. He knocked on Hazel’s door twice. “You can come out now. He’s gone.”
She poked her head out, clearly unconvinced. “Why washehere?”
