No Choice
As the last bits of drug-induced exhaustion faded away, Hazel finally opened her eyes, only to find her worst nightmare staring down at her.
“No! Get away from me!” she screamed through a painfully hoarse throat. She tried to thrash at him, but was quickly reminded her hands and feet were still bound. She snarled wildly, the very image of a feral, trapped animal, fully prepared to shred him with her teeth if it came down to it.
“Whoa, whoa. Calm down there, helcat.” He put his hands up innocently. “I am not here to hurt you.” Yet. He didn’t need to say it.
If what Zeke told her about this one was true, he was more monster than man. And she was in no position to fend him off.
“Get. Away. From. Me.”
The cat—having returned from his stroll—hissed at him as well, earning a glare from Slaide.
“Is that how you’re going to treat the person who saved your ass? No, you wouldn’t have a clue because you’ve been unconscious for days. Well, let me fill you in, sweets. You’re in Ravenhold, currently a prisoner of the crown.”
“I’m aware, thanks.” Prick.
He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Good. That saves me time. Did you also know I’m the one who saved you?
You should be thanking me, but I digress.
You’ll be happy to know it gets even better.
How? I’m glad you asked. You’re in my charge now.
” A sardonic smile graced his face, white teeth gleaming.
She wanted to throw up. Her already-pale skin blanched, and her nostrils flared. A noticeable absence of warmth against her chest had her heart racing. No, no, no. Not my locket.
He stepped toward her, reaching out a hand, and Hazel thrashed. Slaide retracted his hand. “Would you relax for two seconds? I was going to untie you. Or would you rather I just leave you here, tied and unable to defend yourself from the creeps in this castle who would do you actual harm?”
He says that as though he wouldn’t harm me. As though he’s to be trusted—and by me of all people? A laughable thought, considering his reputation. But she did as he asked and relaxed, allowing him to approach and untie her bonds. After all, what choice did she have?
“I know you know who I am, and I gather you’ve heard what I do.
To be frank, I’m all you’ve got at the moment.
So, with that said, I am going to make you an offer you quite literally cannot refuse.
Here’s the deal. The mages want something with you.
Don’t know what, and while I would love to know what they’re up to, I don’t really want to find out—catch my meaning? ”
Hazel blinked. She’d heard rumors about the Magistry, and they weren’t pretty.
“Good. So, unless you want to become one of the Archmages’ new lab rats, I would suggest lending me your cooperation.
First, King Magnus is hosting a Tournament of Champions in less than six days, and you’ve been granted the honor of participating.
Ah-ah, don’t interrupt.” He held up a finger to her lips, and she considered biting him.
“While you’ve made it clear you would rather see my head on a pike outside the city gates than so much as be in my presence, I think we might have something in common.
Intuition tells me you aren’t exactly a fan of His Majesty.
As it turns out, I’m not either.” He whispered the last part, lest the castle rats be listening in.
Her face brightened, though she said nothing. Something fluttered in her chest, the smallest spark of hope. But she stifled it. She could not allow herself to fall for pretty words so easily.
“Thought so. You see, sweets, your participation in this tournament wasn’t desired.
In fact, I was laughed at, if you can believe it.
And I’ll be honest, while I’m sure you’re a nice woman, maybe even a decent lay,” he looked her over in a way that made her want to disappear, “I didn’t choose you because I fancy you or think you’ve even got a shot at winning.
I offered to train you solely to slight him, and it worked.
So, he was furious. Tried to force my hand.
Really wanted me to concede custody of you to the mages.
But, he doesn’t own me, despite wanting to convince himself and everyone around him of the opposite. No one controls me.”
What is his obsession with the King? And what is the King’s obsession with him? I don’t get it… wait…
“Is Magnus your father?” She couldn’t help it. She’d blurted the words out before she could think better of it. Hazel Grace, you bumbling idiot. You just suggested he’s a bastard, of all things. Her cheeks flared with heat.
He blanched, eyes going wide in surprise. And then he laughed. Hysterically.
“My father? Not a shot. He wishes he’d sired someone of my abilities instead of mewling Prince Tristan. Though I suppose he feels I owe him something for allowing me to live this long.” He shrugged carelessly, looking past her into some forgotten memory.
“Not sure what he thinks I should thank him for, anyway. I didn’t share the same childhood as prince charming. As for being a bastard, I’m not the one who carries that title, though I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge someone in that family had some explaining to do.”
“Sorry, I—”
He waved her off with a dismissive hand. “It’s not important. Made me who I am today, right?”
“Right.” Are we pretending that’s a good thing?
“So here’s the deal, uh, Bella… Catlyn …Margaret?”
“Hazel.”
“Hazel.” He smirked. “Alright, Hazel. We’ve only a few days to get you ready for this tournament.
Lost an entire day to you lounging around.
And before you protest again, I’ll remind you the alternative is you being dissected by a bunch of creeps in hooded bath robes.
So, I’m just going to assume you’re in. And by the look of it, we’ve got a lot of work to do. ”
His gaze roamed over her, feeling far too intimate. Hazel grabbed at the threadbare blanket pooled at her hips. He cocked a curious eyebrow. “Can you even move?”
She shrugged, immediately wincing at the small movement.
Right on cue, the infirmary doors opened and Nemsen waltzed in. He balked, apparently forgetting he’d made a deal with Slaide to stay the night. Seeing Hazel sitting upright, limbs unbound, the color drained from his face.
The rotund healer scurried across the room to his workbench and frantically began preparing something. Glasses clinked, liquids sloshed, and before long he was shuffling over to them. Slaide instinctively stepped into Nemsen’s way, barring his path to Hazel, forcing Nemsen to retreat a few steps.
“Master Elias—Slaide—the girl, she’s awake.”
“I have eyes. I can see she’s awake. I was just explaining things to her. What’s in your hands there?”
“I, well… You see, His Majesty requested she remain sedated. At least until we know more about her.”
“Yeah, not happening. That may have been his prior direction, but she’s my ward now.” His next words were low and graveled. He spoke just low enough that she couldn’t make out the words. “I can’t exactly interrogate an unconscious person, can I?”
Nemsen shook his head. His fingers fumbled with the vial in his hands nervously, his internal struggle clear.
“No, sir. No, you can’t.” He sighed. “I know we talked about things, Slaide, but you’ll understand why I still need to run this by the King. I can’t lose my position here, much less my head, for disobeying direct orders. I have a family to feed.”
“Do what you must, but in the meantime, no more drugs. No more sleeping draughts or poppyweed milk. I need her awake.” He folded his arms across his chest.
Behind him, Hazel cleared her throat. “Not to intrude on your little conversation, but since it concerns me, I wonder if I might be included? Or at least know what in the name of the gods is going on here?”
Slaide turned to face her. “In time. For now, we need to get you into better quarters and cleaner clothes. When’s the last time you bathed?” He scrunched his nose in disgust.
Hazel was aghast. She couldn’t help the sorry state her body was in.
Slaide looked at Nemsen. “We’re going to leave now. Do you and I still have an agreement? Or are you going to be a problem?”
Nemsen looked at the floor. “Yes, of course. It shall be as we discussed.”
“Good. If Magnus has a problem, tell him to come find me himself.”
Nemsen’s eyes went wide, and he made to respond, but Slaide turned his back on the man. His heightened senses informed him of Nemsen’s quiet departure, the doors hardly so much as creaking on his way out.
“Can you walk? Obviously, you’ve been bed bound for a few days, but can you try? I really don’t want to carry you out of here.”
Her mouth fell open. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Better start moving.” His grin was feral.
Hazel stared at him, unmoving. When Slaide sighed and moved toward her, she scrambled, attempting to get out of bed. Her erratic movements disturbed the cat, who yowled angrily at them both before hopping down from the bed and fleeing to a dark corner.
Once again, the pain in her ribs seared up her side. Her impossibly stiff joints protested and she winced. Suck it up unless you want this monster touching you. She slid forward, her feet touching the floor, and she braced herself as she shifted her weight onto her body.
And promptly fell to the cold, stone floor.
Slaide, to his credit—and Hazel’s surprise—was immediately at her side.
His face darkened as he looked her over, as though he was seeing how battered she was for the first time.
Her infirmary-issued white tunic was askew, revealing the many hues of bruising covering her legs and arms. As he took in her injuries, something in the way he looked at her changed. At last, he met her eyes.
“Who did this to you?” The words were more growled than spoken.
She was startled at his change in demeanor, but as she thought about the actual question, she grew angry.
“You want to know who did this? Your people. Or at the very least, the people you work with. Work for. I don’t know. The knights in their shiny armor? Yeah, them. Knocked an old woman unconscious and did this to me when I tried to protect her.” She gestured to the length of her body.
Slaide tensed. She could see the anger in his eyes, in the way his expression changed. Perhaps she’d made a mistake speaking up, talking to him in such a way. Maybe this is how she would meet her end, escaping the clutches of one monster only to land in the lap of another.
He reached for her, and she cowered, closing her eyes. But the blow never came.
When she opened her eyes, Slaide was offering his hand, not reaching to strike her. Tentatively, she accepted it. His hand closed around hers, and it was surprisingly gentle. But when she attempted to pull herself up, her body faltered, and she collapsed.
Slaide caught her, bringing them face to face. There was that strange heat again warming her cheeks. This time, he looked away first, but not before conflict flashed across his features.
He stood, letting go of her hand. She watched him as he looked around the room, clearly thinking hard about something, the muscles in his jawline fluttering. Before her was a man fighting a very difficult internal battle, one Hazel wanted no part in.
She rolled to her knees, assuming it was now up to her alone to get to her feet. As she pressed her hands into the floor and attempted to raise her body, she found herself enveloped in muscular arms and hoisted—with overwhelming ease—into the air.
Hazel yelped. “Oof! Put me down! I don’t need to be carried, and especially not like some fainting maiden!”
He looked down at her, and a coy smile spread across his face. “As you wish,” he spoke as he pretended to drop her.
Hazel shrieked, expecting to crash to the floor. And then, much to her embarrassment, she realized he was still holding her. She let out a disgruntled hmph and folded her arms. Sadistic asshole.
“That was childish.”
“No more childish than you refusing help.”
“Is that what this is?”
He crossed his distractingly muscular arms. “Well, let’s see.
You are very much in pain and cannot stand, much less walk.
The guest rooms in this castle are a long way from here, and we’ll be taking many stairs.
But please, by all means, I’ll even race you there.
But what we will not do is dawdle here any longer. I’m on a tight schedule as it is.”
“I just don’t understand why you’re helping me. You’re…”
“Not the helping type? Trust me, I’ve been waiting to come to my senses this entire time. But for the record, I’m not helping you. I’m helping me. Something about you has everyone in this castle up in arms, and that brings me joy. I thrive in chaos.”
I was thinking more along the lines of a witch hunter who should probably have seen me executed by now, but sure. She simply said, “Charming.”
“I try my best, sweets.” He tossed her a sultry wink.
That gods-damned nickname again. Hazel curled a lip in disgust. “Well, what are you waiting for? I really do need a bath. Let’s go.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Then, Slaide flung her over his shoulder like a rag doll, earning himself more than an earful of insults and expletives as he opened the infirmary door to the hallway beyond.