Missing Pieces #2
She decided to prepare her own bath, not wanting to bother Phaedra after her earlier outburst. Let the angel rest. She could handle this on her own.
Besides, she didn’t want to talk to anyone.
Didn’t want anyone else to look upon her with pity in their eyes.
She just wanted to sink into scalding hot water and be carried away by the lush, scented soap they kept stocked for her.
As she sank into the bath, Hazel hissed, the hot water stinging her chafed thighs. All the recent horseback riding had taken its toll on her skin. But once she was submerged, she cleared her mind of the thoughts that had plagued her. Tried to, anyway.
Sitting in the quiet bathing room without anyone to attend to her proved to be a lonely experience.
Her thoughts wandered over the previous day’s events, specifically the part where Slaide’s mouth had brushed her skin and the conflicting emotions he’d invoked.
Her body heated in response to the memory, to the thought of his lips on her neck, the brush of his fangs that sent a shiver up her spine.
She sank deeper into the water, wanting to dissolve in the warmth.
But she caught herself mid-thought, just as her hands had begun to roam her body beneath the water’s surface. What am I doing? Slaide was a dangerous, traitorous monster that she did not need to further entangle herself with, not even in her fantasies.
She spent the rest of her bath scrubbing every inch of her body furiously, as though she could remove the memory of him on her skin.
By the time she was finished, the water had grown cold and her skin was raw and angry.
She wrapped herself in a linen towel that had no right to be as soft as it was and padded barefoot across the room to fetch a nightdress from her armoire.
Then she grabbed the letter off the writing desk and carried it to bed with her. She climbed up into the over-sized, ultra-plush mattress and snuggled into the down-filled duvet. She read the letter repeatedly, her father’s words bringing her comfort until sleep finally came to claim her.
Hazel was startled awake by a rapping knock on her door, light yet firm.
“Hazel?” called the voice. She slowly recognized it was Phaedra. “May I come in?”
“Sure, Phaedra, come in,” she called back.
The door opened cautiously, and Phaedra peeked her head in.
“You can come all the way in,” Hazel said. “I won’t bite.”
Phaedra entered the room looking as though she’d been scolded. She carried a tray with a steaming teapot and small cakes. She didn’t meet Hazel’s eyes.
“Mistress Hazel,” she said quietly while pouring tea, “I’ve come to help you get ready and escort you to the next trial.”
Hazel’s demeanor shifted, as she comprehended why the angel was so gloomy. “Then you’re wasting your time. It’s not your fault, Phaedra, but I’m not going.”
“But Mistress—”
“Please, Phaedra. Don’t. I’ve come to terms with the fate that awaits me, and it’s the only real choice I’ve had since I’ve been here. Let me have a say in just this one thing, please,” Hazel insisted.
The angel nodded and walked to the window. “I understand as much as anyone what it is like to have no say in life. And I’m sorry you’ve had to experience it.”
As Hazel watched her, she noticed the clipped wing tips again. And then she noticed the marred flesh across her back. Fresh, angry red wounds layered atop old ones, scarred pink. Her alabaster skin was a portrait of suffering.
“Phaedra. Your back,” Hazel managed.
Phaedra shrunk as though struck, turning her back away. “Oh, it’s nothing, Mistress. Please don’t worry about me.”
“No. No, I most certainly will worry about you.” She hopped out of bed, crossing the room to where Phaedra now stood, nearly trembling. The little angel wrapped her arms around her body defensively.
When Hazel reached her, she wrapped her arms around Phaedra in a tight embrace, careful not to put too much pressure on her wounds.
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. What should be.”
Hazel froze, struck by the feeling of being caught in a dream.
“Instead, let it light a fire within you. For you. For us. 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.