Heidi was glaring at the back of Azel’s head.
“Her kind?” Loke plunked his drink down on the table, narrowing his eyes at Azel. “What kind is she?”
“This here’s a Majis sorceress,” the tavern keep announced loudly—and proudly. “Prince Erich here is bringing her in for execution.”
Mugs and spoons slammed down as her words hit home. But despite the clamor of noise, Erich didn’t miss the tiny gasp from Azel when Heidi said the word “execution.” Her eyes went wide as she clenched her fists below the table.
“For justice,” Erich raised his voice above the sudden barrage of questions and accusations that flew down the table toward them. “I’m bringing her in for justice. King Gareth will decide her fate.”
The man sitting next to Azel rose from his seat, his face full of fear.
Erich held up his hand, wanting to defuse the situation. “She can’t use her magic. It’s safe. You don’t have to leave.”
The man dropped back in his seat but slid down the bench away from her.
“I think it’s pretty clear what her fate ought to be.” Loke slid his mug across the rough tabletop, indicating toward Azel. “I heard the Majis hunt everyone who shows up on their little island. Have you killed an innocent man for sport, girl?”
Azel looked up at the man, horror in her eyes.
Erich wanted to reach across the table and punch the man in his face. Of course, Azel had never done anything of the sort and it was ridiculous to think the Majis did something so insane.
“Are you planning to curse us all, sorceress, when you get your magic back?” Loke provoked her.
Azel dropped her gaze, unable to respond to the man’s taunts.
“What’s wrong?” Loke continued. “Is something wrong with your tongue?”
Azel’s face burned red and her shoulders slumped, as though she was trying to make herself even smaller.
Loke’s face broke into a grin as he realized his words had hit home. “She can’t talk, can she?”
Erich shrugged in response. What was happening here?
“The sorceress can’t use magic and she can’t talk!” Loke announced, slamming his mug against the table again.
The titters of fear around the table gradually calmed down at this announcement.
Erich exhaled. Perhaps it was a good thing. If these people had nothing to fear, they would go back to their food and conversations.
Erich pushed his own plate of food toward Azel. He wouldn’t let her starve because the tavern keep was rude.
She pushed it back toward him, wrapping her arms around her stomach.
“It doesn’t matter,” Erich told himself. “It doesn’t matter what she feels.”
“Her hair is the color of blood,” a loud voice said from further down the table. “I’ve never seen that color before. I wonder how it got to be that way?”
“I can make a few guesses,” another voice responded. Ideas flew around the room, each one more disturbing than the last.
Even though she was sitting right in the middle of the room and could hear every word they said, these people didn’t seem to care. Erich sat in disbelief as he tried to drown out the horrible things he was hearing. And they weren’t even about him.
He glanced toward Azel. She was clutching her fisted hands to her chest and her body shook as she inhaled.
“It doesn’t matter,” Erich told himself repeatedly. “For all I know, they might be right.”
“Curses,” he muttered under his breath. Every single thing they were saying was completely wrong. He couldn’t imagine Azel doing anything a fraction as evil as they were suggesting. He couldn’t sit here and listen to this.
“Let’s get out of here,” he whispered, standing up and stepping behind her.
