This was her fault, she knew it. She’d thrown the King’s mistreatment of his slaves in his face, specifically commenting on the wings of his angel slaves. And while Hazel had been wallowing in her sorrows, taking a scalding hot bath, and slinking into a cozy bed to cry herself to sleep…
Phaedra was being whipped.
“I’m so sorry,” Hazel whispered into her hair. “I’m so, so sorry. This shouldn’t have happened to you.”
The angel squirmed in Hazel’s embrace. She wiped a tear from Hazel’s cheek. “Please, Mistress. Don’t weep for me.” She grabbed Hazel’s hands. “Win for me instead. Don’t give up now. Don’t let Master Elias’s shortcomings, or the King’s brutality, or their limited expectations of someone they’ve written off as less-than get in the way of what can be. Whatshouldbe.”
Hazel froze, struck by the feeling of being caught in a dream.
“Instead, let it light a fire within you. For you. Forus. Because it’s not just me cheering for you behind the scenes, Mistress. You’ve brought light into a dark place. Don’t let them put it out. Let them burn.”
Her eyes shone in a way Hazel had never seen. Gone was the timid angel. This Phaedra was fierce in mind if not in body. And she was speaking the words of someone ready to fight.
And Hazel decided then that she wanted to fight, too.
MERRILL
Phaedra walked Hazel as far as she could, which was the last archway before the grand hall.
Slaves apparently weren’t allowed outside the main halls—something about being a bad look for the King. The grand hall, throne room, and ballroom were reserved to a higher class of servant. The lessers—angels like Phaedra, among other beings—were required to use a tunnel system behind the castle walls, deemed too unsightly for the public eye.
Rules be damned, Hazel gave Phaedra a hug before her departure into the enormous hall.
“Be strong,” the angel whispered in a voice so soft and melodic Hazel thought it might break her. Phaedra’s grip on her wrist tightened momentarily. “You can do this,” she said before letting go.
Hazel had the overwhelming feeling of being the smallest fish in a big pond, and the many eyes trained on her the moment her feet hit the tile did not help.
Let them look. For once, Hazel didn’t shrink beneath their stares. She didn’t wish herself invisible. She didn’t reach for the locket’s comfort.
She simply walked in and found an empty seat at the long dining table. No theatrics. No interactions. She would not give them what they wanted today.
At least, that had been the plan she’d formulated with Slaide. She tried to ignore the pang of sadness that struck her, the wound left by his betrayal still fresh.
He might have put her life on the line to spare his own, but the plan was likely still solid. After all, sabotaging her wouldn’t have done him a lick of good.
In spite of herself, she looked for him. Some deep seated longing for his familiarity drove her to seek his face in the makeshift stands. She was disappointed to find him absent.
Fine. It was fine. She didn’t need him to be there in order to succeed.
Above all else, she planned to face the mirror just as she had the first time. If it revealed anything damning, so be it. She would keep a straight face, betraying nothing.
That was the plan. But things so rarely went to plan, as she would soon find out.
She was one of the last competitors to test their mettle against the mirror, and it didn’t bode well for her nerves.
Especially since several men had, in fact, lost their wits due to things the mirror showed them.
One man was shown an image of himself reunited with wife and children, when in reality, they had died earlier that spring in a terrible fire at their home. Visibly confused and distraught, he ran from the hall yelling something indiscernible about “coming for them.”
Another man was shown his death at the hands of a fellow competitor, who then went on to take his widow for his own.
A fight ensued, and to nearly everyone’s surprise, the mirror had been correct. The man did die at the hands of his fellowcompetitor… albeit sooner and in a more gruesome fashion than predicted.
And of course, as her luck would have it, Hazel was next.
“Step forward,” the guard beside the mirror said.
Hazel did.
