Chapter Not Dead Yet
NOT DEAD YET
Hazel slept the entire following day, and Slaide, despite his earlier agreement with Nemsen, wasn’t given leave to visit.
The other healers, Nemsen had explained, weren’t privy to their discussion, and Nemsen wasn’t comfortable exposing himself in such a way that might cost him everything.
Fine. Slaide supposed he could respect that. Even if he did smash a potted plant on the steps leading out to the gardens to vent his frustration. It was that or Nemsen’s head.
He took his meals in private, half expecting her to walk in the doors at any moment. At this point, he would just be grateful for her to regain consciousness before the next trial.
They had less than twenty-four hours. Magnus had confirmed in private that he was in fact bringing out the Mirror of Truth, and Slaide desperately needed to form a game plan with Hazel.
He needed to know how the Hel she’d kept her wits during her first encounter and what it had revealed, though he wouldn’t bet his life on her sharing the latter.
Would it show her the same truths and lie? Would it concoct entirely new ones? Would she succumb to madness this time?
And yet, the most important question of all remained to be answered: would she even be awake by tomorrow evening?
Slaide took dinner by himself in the small dining room, the same room he’d teased Hazel about her manners until she left the room crying.
He could almost see her sitting across from him, reaching for a slice of potato bacon pie before he’d scolded her.
He’d been too harsh. He knew it then, and he knew it now.
But she was too soft. She needed to learn that no one would coddle her there. Didn’t she?
Appetite lost and questioning everything, Slaide pushed away from the table and stalked to the window, fighting the urge to put his fist through something again.
As he overlooked the gardens, he was haunted by the things he’d uncovered in that gods-forsaken hedge. The body parts strewn about, the blood splattered leaves, the corpses sucked completely dry with only husks remaining… but no monsters.
The signs were there. The competitors surely didn’t do those things to each other, and the living labyrinth didn’t act alone. And yet, despite the carnage, there was no sign of their coming or going.
Except the black salt, but Slaide had kept that bit to himself.
Half the competition had been wiped out one way or another. Some died, some forfeited. And somehow Hazel had made it through. He wasn’t sure she deserved this anymore.
“Why here, Hazel? Why now? Why couldn’t you just have—”
“Am I interrupting something?” a soft voice from the doorway interrupted.
Slaide nearly jumped out of his skin as he spun around. “Hazel? Gods, I-you-you’re alive.”
“It seems that way, yes,” she said with a hint of mirth in her voice.
Conflicting feelings raged within him. One, the urge to run to her and squeeze her tight. The other, the voice of reason, told him to stay calm and collected. The end result was somewhere between a hop and a skip that left him feeling mortified.
For better or worse, it made her smile. And in that same moment, it occurred to Slaide that she’d never smiled in his presence that he could remember. And he would remember.
“Are you okay?” she asked after a few moments went by. “You’re acting weird, er, weirder than normal.”
He snapped out of it. “Fine. I’m fine. I-are you alright?” After all, it wasn’t he who had just been through Hel and back.
Her eyes glossed over for a moment before she spoke. “I think I am. I’m not dead—not yet, anyway. A little sore and my head still feels weird, but I’m—” The next sound she made was an oomph as Slaide scooped her into a hug and pressed her tight against him.
It wasn’t until she squirmed in his grasp that he came to his senses. Get your shit together, stupid. She’s a means to an end, nothing more.
“Maybe I should go get Nemsen,” she suggested. Reaching for her pendant as he so often caught her doing.
“No, really. It’s fine. I’m fine. See?” He held his arms out to the side as if that was supposed to prove something. “Please, Hazel, sit. Eat something. I feel we have a lot of catching up to do.”
It was late when Hazel stretched and yawned in her seat. Slaide was unaware of how much time had passed until he noticed her struggling to keep her eyes open.
Recounting the trial in grave detail was probably almost as exhausting as living it.
Especially after learning she’d survived not only the labyrinth itself, but a shadowkin called a Tenebris, and a siren-like water wraith known as a Nixie.
Two creatures that weren’t supposed to be there, Slaide explained.
He didn’t feel it was necessary to tell her she was lucky to be alive.
“I think that’s about enough for tonight.
” Slaide stood and moved to help her out of her chair.
Yes, the same Slaide who had previously barked at Pimley and the servants for doing the same.
He convinced himself this was different.
Plus, that was before he’d gotten to know her. Even if it had only been a week.
“We’ll talk more tomorrow after you’ve had time to rest.”
She wavered slightly as she rose.
Perhaps being awake in time for tomorrow’s trial shouldn’t have been his only concern. Though, the mirror should be more mentally taxing than physical. He’d been so immersed in his thoughts, it thoroughly shocked him when Hazel’s thumb grazed the corner of his mouth.
His thoughts raced. When did the evening take this turn? Did I miss something?
“Relax, weirdo,” she said, removing her hand. “You had sauce on your face.”
He blinked. Sauce. Right.
“You know,” she continued with laughter dancing in her eyes, “you’re kind of cute when you’re flustered.”
Cute. He wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or offended. Slaide Elias, witch hunter for the High King, should not be seen as cute.
He raised a brow. “You should be getting to bed. Another big day tomorrow.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” That she had the nerve to act inconvenienced by her mandatory participation in a tournament that could easily mean her death was something new to Slaide. In her short time as a prisoner, she’d changed.
And he was glad for it. The Hazel he’d met mere days ago was a shell of the one before him. Apparently, she just needed the right encouragement.
They walked back to her quarters in silence, though Slaide’s mind was anything but quiet. He wanted to press her for answers to his burning questions so he could stay up and form a plan for the coming day, but it wasn’t the time.
Before they reached her door, he finally broke his silence. “Hazel,” he spoke, “tomorrow’s trial… we really need to talk about your previous interaction with that mirror.” I don’t know if you can withstand it twice. But he kept that part to himself.
She yawned rather dramatically, to the point where Slaide wondered if she was being intentional. “That’s a problem for tomorrow me.”
He frowned. “Indeed. And tomorrow me.”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Slaide. Not everything is about you. If you’re so worried, why don’t you face the mirror?” She grabbed his wrist and smacked his palm against hers as though they were clapping hands. “There, I tagged you in. You’re up, tough guy,” she chided.
“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.