Chapter 33
Chapter
Thirty-Three
“Ifeel sick,” Hazel says from beside me. Her arm links through mine as we stand outside of town hall. The sounds of cheering voices and light music trickle outside.
“As do I,” I say.
“Why are we even here?” she asks. I shake my head. I’m not certain myself. “We could be doing other things, like figuring out what in the world we are supposed to do with gods’ blood—”
“Hazel!” I whisper sharply, looking around us to check that no one is nearby.
“And why do we only have three vials when your mother wrote there were four?”
It’s something we only paid attention to after I reread the passage, that I only have three of the four vials my mother was given by the gods.
My brows furrow as a new wonder comes to mind. “Why did they give it to her?” I ask.
“What?”
I turn to face Hazel. “The gods, why did they give the vials to my mother of all people? Why her?”
Hazel’s eyes narrow as she thinks. “I don’t know. Though I was thinking, how many people came here from Arizaya? I mean, if these hunts started because of them, how many of them are left?”
The thought sends a rush of cold through my veins. It could be anyone.
A hand grabs my arm, and I jump. “Whoa,” Maeve laughs. “Sorry, love. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Holy tadpoles,” I breathe. “Maeve.”
Her eyes shine with amusement. “Are you girls going in?”
“Still deciding,” Hazel says.
“Mmm.” Maeve nods. “I don’t blame you. But remember, they're watching all of us. No doubt Hawthorne and his shields will be taking note of who’s not here tonight.”
A familiar chill snakes across my spine as I recall the night the shields chased me through the woods. The way one of them was following Hazel and Elara.
Maeve is right. We are already under watch. And now we actually have something to hide.
She gives my hand a light squeeze before pushing through the doors, the surge of noise spilling out the gap.
“She is not wrong,” I say. “They’re watching both of us.” Hazel's tongue finds the side of her cheek.
“Look,” I say, taking hold of both of her hands.
“I know you don’t want to give this psychotic asshole any kind of satisfaction.
But I can assure you,” I breathe, “he will find far more satisfaction stringing you up than seeing you somewhere in the crowd tonight, and he will use anything as ammunition. We do not hide.”
She huffs a breath, hooking her arm in mine once more. “I hate him.”
“You and me both,” I say, pressing on the door and stepping into the noisy hall.
Warm bodies gather around, everyone with a drink in hand, and bright smiles on their faces as they laugh with friends.
Hazel and I just wander through the space, keeping room between ourselves and everyone else.
My eyes wander around the room, taking in the tables set up around the space, and the sheer number of people in here. It seems no one wants to upset Hawthorne. In fact, many of them look pleased as they stand around the hearth roaring in the corner, almost as if they are grateful to be here.
“Did they forget whose stupid party they are at?” Hazel says.
“Hazel,” I murmur as a quiet warning.
“No, I’m serious,” she whispers. “It’s as if as soon as they get a drink in their hands, they forget what we all saw only weeks ago. As if we didn’t bury two innocent women.”
“Do you—” I stop myself as a young shield walks past us, his light eyes filled with uncertainty as they meet mine.
I can’t help but take him in, with his light brown hair and clean skin.
But then my mind plies me with the image of him pulling his sword out of a warm body, blood marring his beautiful features.
I screw my eyes shut, trying to force the image away.
“He looks no more than a year older than Elara,” Hazel says once he is out of earshot. “This is no life for someone so young,” she spits.
“He chose this, Hazel,” I say. “My brother used to tell me that men in Zorindale saw it as a great honour. To serve the king is what many of them have wished for since childhood.”
“It’s sick.” I cannot disagree, so I say nothing.
My life at that age wasn’t butterflies and rainbows.
My parents were dead, and I had fallen into the role of my brother’s apothecary, making sure I didn’t accidentally kill anyone as I stumbled my way around medicinal remedies.
But Hazel is right—working for the king…
there must be a heavy weight on that boy’s shoulders.
My mind wanders back to Pearl and Dahlia Livingston. We all thought they were innocent, just two women caught up in Mayor Hawthorne’s assertion of power. But what if they weren’t?
The first time I ever met Dahlia, she was paranoid.
The mayor hadn’t even arrived in town, yet she feared for her life.
Thorley had chalked it down to paranoia, and so did I, because I couldn’t understand why she would be so sure he would come for her.
It never crossed my mind that maybe there was a reason.
I’ve never experienced fear of that degree, not until I had something to hide, something that could have me prosecuted without any need for a trial.
“What?” Hazel’s voice cuts into my dissection. “What are you thinking about?”
I don’t try to pretend I wasn’t stuck in my head.
Hazel has known me long enough to know when I’m analysing something.
“The Livingstons,” I say, my voice low as we find seats at an empty table.
“What if they weren’t as innocent as we thought?
” It tastes vile coming off my tongue, like treachery, but I can’t help it.
“What?” Hazel’s face reads disbelief.
“I just—” I let out a long breath before leaning in close to her. “We aren’t innocent, Hazel. If anyone knew what we know—”
“But they won’t.”
I tip my head. “I know. But if they did, we would have no chance. No fair trial, no doubt. We would be dead.”
Hazel closes her eyes, as if she can’t stand to face it, but we don’t have another choice.
“I can’t help but wonder why Dahlia was so certain that she was next. Unless she had something to hide too.”
Hazel’s eyes blink open, and I watch as her eyelashes flutter a few times. I can see her following the path of thinking I just laid out in front of her.
“We won’t end up like that,” she says as she takes my hand in hers. “That’s not how our stories end.” She echoes the words I spoke to her weeks ago in the forest. Back then I was certain—the words a statement, a fact.
Now they sound more like a prayer.
I feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise, an awareness pulling at me.
I sit up in my seat, subtly looking around the room, and it takes me less than a second to find the shield watching me.
The same one who is always watching me. It’s almost like he has a fixation on me, like he’s not paying attention to anyone else.
The look on his face is pure rage, and I think back to how desperate he sounded in the woods that night. How determined he was to find me.
I swallow thickly before turning back to Hazel, and when I do, I see she has noticed him too.
Suddenly, it feels like everyone is watching us. As if every single person in here has their eyes glued to the back of my head. Yet when I look up once more, I find everyone as they were earlier, engrossed in their jars of ale and conversation.
“What if…” I think out loud, and Hazel’s eyes meet mine. “What if other people can feel them too, the vials? What if it’s not merely Elara?”
“The only way we could know is if we figure out why she can feel it, and we can’t. And I haven’t got the slightest clue.”
I left the vials with Cedar. The shields are already suspicious of me, and I can’t risk them finding them. The library is the safest place to keep them, at least for now.
I need to get back into that study. I need to see if there is anything else that I can find that could explain any of this.
“Silas is here.” Hazel’s eyes look past me, but I don’t bother to turn around. “What’s going on there?” she asks.
“Nothing at all.”
I can’t make my feelings for Silas disappear, not after so many years of pathetic pining. But I can shut the door on them, quiet them for now and replace them with the frustration I still feel towards him.
Someone clears their throat in an absurdly loud manner, and when I turn towards the sound, I see Mayor Hawthorne standing on the small stage at the rear of the hall. A cheery smile sits proudly on his face, and it just pulls mine down in disgust. “Welcome, all.”
“Ew,” Hazel mutters.
“It is so wonderful to see you all here tonight, despite what has happened in recent weeks since I arrived.”
Hazel snorts. “Oh, so he knows we hate him.”
“Hazel.” I nudge her in warning.
The chair behind me scrapes against the floor, and I turn to see Silas taking a seat. “Hi,” he says quietly. I just raise my brows before turning back to the mayor.
“I want tonight to be a fresh start of sorts,” Hawthorne says as he paces the stage. “I want you to understand me, and realise that I am not the bad guy here, okay?” He holds up his hands in surrender. I can barely hold in a scoff.
“Let’s start with introducing you to my men from The Royal Shield.” He beckons someone onto the stage, and I hold my breath when his dark eyes meet mine, even from the stage. “This is my captain, Sir Alaric Barton.” He claps a hand on the shield’s shoulder, and Barton almost flinches.
Interesting.
“These men are not here to cause harm. They are here to protect. To protect me, and to protect you, from any sinister goings-on that might occur here in Sylvan.”
Just like they did in Lenthara.
“What did I miss?” a sharp whisper asks as Cedar finds a seat next to Hazel.
Hazel sighs. “Just this bastard and his idea of a fresh start.” I nearly choke on my own breath.
“So please make them feel welcome. And let us celebrate together tonight!” Someone hands him a jar of ale. “To the future of Sylvan!”
People hold up their glasses, a few shouting in excitement as they look up at Hawthorne with bright eyes.