The Kingswood
Sunlight filtered in through the paned windows, falling over Hazel in a warm caress. She groaned, rolling over and seeking the cover of the duvet. Why weren’t the curtains closed?
Wait.
She sat up with a start, jolted by the realization that when she’d last been awake, she was astride Phillip—with Slaide. And she… Oh gods. Had she fallen asleep on him? She brushed the wild, unruly strands of hair from her face and attempted to reorient with the world.
She glanced down and was unsettled by the discovery of a night dress, and not the clothes she’d last had on. Her cheeks heated. Had he…?
“Phaedra’s work again, sweets, not mine.
” Slaide’s voice shattered her inner monologue.
“I have my issues, sure, but messing with people while they sleep isn’t my thing.
” He was sitting backwards in the chair at the writing desk, his arms folded over the chair back.
He feigned disinterest and picked at his nails with his dagger. “You sleep like the dead, by the way.”
Hazel rolled her eyes. “So how did I get in here?” She had an idea but wasn’t in love with it.
“I carried you.” So matter of fact, Hazel thought, as though I should just expect that from him.
“Why?”
“Would you rather have slept in the stables? Phillip is great company, but when his gas gets going, he’s nearly lethal.” He shrugged. “But if that’s what you’d prefer…”
“No—I… It’s fine. I just… thank you.” She rubbed her arms, not meeting his gaze. “I don’t know what came over me to fall asleep like that.”
Slaide laughed softly. “Generally, exhaustion will do that to you. Believe it or not, I do acknowledge you’ve had a trying few days. And I understand this has been a big change for you.” He waved her off. “I did try waking you but…”
Then it was her turn to laugh. “I guess I really do sleep like the dead.” Then she cleared her throat, suddenly very aware of Slaide’s presence and her lack of clothing, a blush warming her cheeks.
He smiled. “It never does get old, watching you squirm.” He sat up then, dismounting the chair and straightening his shirt. “Anyway, I have some business to attend to out in the Wilds today. Want to join?”
“Are you actually giving me a choice in something?” She was only half-teasing. Up until now, no one had given her a say in what her next move would be. She fluffed the duvet, if for no other reason than to have something to do with her hands.
“It seems I am. So, what do you say?” The way the sun was hitting him caused the amber flecks in his eyes to turn to liquid gold. It was mesmerizing.
“Ahem.” He was staring at her, one corner of his mouth lifting.
She’d stared too long. “What? Oh.” She scratched the back of her head and tucked a loose hair behind her ear. “Yeah. I think I will.”
“Good. Now get dressed and meet me downstairs in half an hour. It could be a long day, so we need to grab a bite to eat before we head out.” As he turned to leave, a knock sounded at the door.
“Expecting company?” Slaide asked pointedly.
She shook her head. She wasn’t, but maybe Ezekiel had finally tracked her down? She found herself missing his company.
Another knock, more forcefully this time. Hazel’s hand flew to the locket, finding it warm to the touch.
“Slaide!” came a voice that sent shivers down Hazel’s spine. Not Ezekiel, then.
“Fuck,” Slaide hissed. He looked back at Hazel. “Don’t move.” He cracked the door open and said, “To what do I owe this visit, Your Majesty?”
Hazel gulped. He’s probably wondering why I’m not dead.
Slaide slid out between the doors, leaving them slightly ajar behind him.
The berating started immediately.
“Slaide Elias, you’d better tell me the gods-damned rumor I just heard isn’t true.” The King seethed.
“Depends on the rumor, I guess. You’ll have to be more specific,” Slaide joked in his particularly nonchalant way.
“Don’t toy with me, boy. You’re letting her sleep in your gods-damned quarters. I knew you were stupid. But this… She’s meant to be in a cell, you fool! Locked away like the prisoner she is. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking she’ll be more likely to explain, cooperate, Hel, even show me what secrets she’s hiding if she’s comfortable here. She needs some reassurance that death isn’t looming around every corner.” She heard Slaide say plainly. She pictured his crossed arms, his feigned boredom.
“But death is looming around every corner, Slaide. Especially for her. She’s not a guest here.
Imagine how ridiculous I looked this morning when I learned from Lord Giles of all people that the bitch wasn’t locked up in the dungeon!
When I said you could oversee her interrogation and training for the tournament, I didn’t mean she could roam the halls! ”
Was this it? Would Slaide relent and she’d be forced to be back in the depths of the castle?
But she heard the smile in Slaide’s voice when he responded. “To be fair, Lord Giles is the Lord of Gossip. He could tell you when you’re going to take a shit before your bowels so much as grumble.”
“This isn’t a joke, Slaide. Mark my words. You will pay for this.” The last Hazel heard of the King was the sound of his shoes clopping down the hallway.
“I look forward to it,” Slaide muttered in his wake.
After the abrupt intrusion, Hazel and Slaide met for an uneventful, silent meal before making their way to the stables.
Despite the recent rain, the previously squelching mud had mostly dried up.
Impressions of wagon wheels and horseshoes were hardened into the ground, which was much easier to traverse this time around.
No boots getting sucked into the muck, no splatter from the wagons as they rolled past.
The sun warmed Hazel’s face, and she could almost feel her freckles threatening to pop up in its embrace. A few of the horses were in the paddocks grazing, and she spied Phillip among them.
When he saw Slaide, he whinnied and trotted to the fence. Slaide pulled half an apple out of his pack and handed it over to the eager beast, who crunched happily. Juice from the apple spritzed Hazel’s face, and she laughed. She wiped her cheek and caught Slaide staring down at her.
He shook his head as though trying to shake off the grin growing on his face before turning from her and entering the stable. Phillip took his cue and walked to the paddock gate and back into the barn to meet them.
The barn smelled of freshly oiled leather, alfalfa, and horse.
The grooms and stable hands took meticulous care of the animals and grounds, but Hazel noticed none of them ever touched Phillip.
She pondered that for a moment, when she discovered a second set of tack sitting beside Slaide’s.
Hazel’s insides flipped in excitement, glad at the prospect of riding again—and not having to ride double.
Slaide handed her a stiff bristled brush and nodded toward his horse, who was now munching hay in the stall.
Hazel approached the midnight black gelding with a beaming smile on her face. Phillip paid her no mind, continuing to munch on his meal as she entered and approached him. Only when she reached his flank did he lift his head in acknowledgment before returning to his business.
Slaide observed from outside the stall, arms folded as usual, and Hazel was beginning to think it was the only way he knew how to stand.
She started brushing Phillip with short flicks of her wrist, dislodging loose hairs, dander, and dried mud.
She had to admit, the animal was far less dirty than his stablemates, as though someone had already groomed him.
So, then why am I doing this all again? She cocked a brow in Slaide’s direction.
“Something the matter, sweets?” he crooned.
“You groomed him already.” Not a question.
His eyes widened, and then he uncrossed his arms, placing his fists on his hips. “So, what if I did? I wanted to see something.”
“Well, are you satisfied? I was under the impression you had some important business to get to today. I see no reason to groom Phillip twice, even if he is a total sweetheart. You could learn a thing or two from him, you know.”
“It’s unofficial business. Nonetheless, we should get going, yes.
” He nodded to the stall next to Phillip’s, where a fat flaxen pony was crunching on grain.
It had a thick, black and white double-layered mane that stood on end in a permanent bad hair day.
A black dorsal stripe ran down the center of its back to the base of its tail, which was as multicolored as the mane.
The lower half of its legs were black, like tall socks, and its neck was obnoxiously thick.
Hazel thought it was clearly a cart-pony or pack-pony.
“Him?” she asked Slaide. “He’s so… stout.”
“Her, you mean. And yes. That’s Nanna.” Hearing her name, Nanna lifted her head and snorted, ears pinned.
That’s a mare, alright.
“Hey now. Knock it off, you old nag. Your boyfriend likes her, so lighten up.” He pulled something out of his pocket and offered it to her.
She accepted the treat greedily. “Nanna puts on a big show, but she’s actually a loving old soul.
That’s not to say she won’t bite you in the ass sometime today just to make a point, but it’s part of the fun with her. ” He winked.
Hazel moved to the front of Nanna’s stall and the old mare turned away from her, leaving Hazel to stare at the pony’s rump.
Behind her, Slaide chuckled under his breath.
“One more thing,” Slaide said as Hazel prepared to mount Nanna.
“Do not run.” His voice dipped dangerously low.
“If you run, I will catch you. And while I’ll thoroughly enjoy what comes next, I won’t be happy about deviating from my plans to chase you down. Understood?”
Her throat bobbed in response. She nodded her agreement, ducking her head behind Nanna to hide the blush creeping into her cheeks.
Oh, today is going to be eventful indeed.