Clipped Wings
Being carted around by this brute was not her idea of a good time, but Hazel resigned to it despite her reservations.
She’d spent too much energy trying to pummel Slaide into putting her down, and when he’d finally obliged, she discovered she was still in far too much pain to walk more than a few steps.
So, she found herself in his arms again, much to her dismay.
They arrived at an archway with oaken double doors, which Slaide pushed through unceremoniously.
“And this,” he said with a grunt, “will be your home for the foreseeable future.” He crossed the room to the wooden four-poster bed and tossed Hazel onto it as though he was offloading a sack of grain and not a woman.
“Hey! Take it easy!” she yelped.
“Says the girl who didn’t want any help. Anyway, as I said, this is where you’ll be staying. Phaedra will be attending you and is currently readying a bath.”
Hazel was only half-listening as she took in her new surroundings. She flopped backward onto the thick, soft duvet and thought it must be stuffed with the most expensive down known to man, because damn was it luxurious.
“Are you even listening?”
“Hmm?”
“Fucking Hel, Hazel. I’m trying to give you some ground rules so you don’t lose your head and you—”
But she was ignoring him again, cozying deeper into the covers and pillows. She was so, so tired. I am never leaving this bed.
“Ahem…”
Shit. Right. Currently in the same room—alone—with the most dangerous man in Aeos. “Err… Yes?” She found herself uncomfortable to be sharing this space with him. He could do whatever he wanted to her right now, and no one would know or care.
Apparently, he had a similar thought. “Witch or not, I’m beginning to think it really would be easier to kill you and be done with it. You’re more trouble than you’re worth.” Slaide stalked toward her, causing her to slink up against the headboard, pulling her knees to her chest.
“Just stay out of trouble. Can you manage that? No, don’t answer. Considering how you got here in the first place, I know for a fact you can’t stay out of trouble. Keep in mind, I’ll be around and checking in on you periodically, but I’m not always going to be here to rescue you.”
Hazel rolled her eyes and pulled the covers back over her head without so much as another word. You’re the last person I’d want to rescue me, anyway.
“Don’t forget to bathe; you smell awful,” he reminded her as he left the room.
Only when Hazel was certain the door had closed did she peek out from beneath her covers. For the first time since they’d entered, she was able to take in her surroundings in greater detail.
On the far wall to her right, there were two sets of floor-to-ceiling windows, each with a built-in window seat upholstered in red velvet.
Heavy velvet curtains in a wine-stain red were pulled back on either side and tied with golden rope.
Between them, a writing desk with a single drawer rested against the wall, complete with a small stack of parchment and an inkwell.
The four-poster bed was ornate, with whorls carved into the mahogany. The craftsmanship, though extensive, was exquisite and unlike anything she’d seen. Which, of course, was only fitting. She was in the home of the High King himself, after all.
Hazel’s thoughts were interrupted by a tiny noise behind her. She turned to find a small yet statuesque woman standing there. No, not just a woman.
An angel.
She was curvy yet petite, with pinched features and much smaller wings than she would have expected. Though I suppose that’s fitting, seeing as absolutely nothing has been what I’ve thought it would be.
The angel bowed low, revealing the intricate, delicate-looking wings on her back. When she stood, she spoke in a melodic voice the likes of which could only come from… well, an angel.
“Mistress, I am Phaedra. I do believe Master Elias told you I’d be attending you?”
“I—yes. He did. But it’s alright, really. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Worry, Mistress? I don’t understand.”
“Well, most people here don’t trust me, and I can only assume Slaide—er, Master Elias—expects you to keep a watchful eye on me should I decide to do anything stupid?”
“No, Mistress. He said nothing of the sort. In fact, he told me you’ve had quite a harrowing few days and would need to be attended to until you are able to care for yourself.”
Hazel didn’t know what to say. Being in the presence of what she understood to be a supernatural being was disconcerting to say the least. But being waited on by one? No one talked about what went on in this castle, and they certainly never mentioned angelic servants.
“Mistress? If it’s alright with you, I’ll escort you to your bath now, lest it get cold.”
“Oh, right. Thank you, Phaedra.” She thought about attempting to cross the room to where Phaedra stood on her own, but seeing her hesitation, the angel appeared beside the bed.
“Please, allow me.” She offered her arm. “I promise, I am stronger than I appear.” There was a smile in her voice, but it didn’t meet her face.
Hazel graciously accepted help, sliding from the bed and into Phaedra’s arms. Despite her claims of being strong, Hazel noted the slight flutter of her wings as she steadied them both.
“I’ve got you, Mistress. Come, now. Let’s get you to that bath.”
Hazel desired privacy, but seeing as she couldn’t maneuver her body quite right, nor lift her arms high enough to remove her shift, she found herself welcoming the angel’s assistance.
Sure, she’d shared her body with a couple of people in her lifetime, but she wasn’t a fan of undressing in front of others.
Despite her reservations, she supposed Phaedra was a woman in her own right, even if she was another species.
And yet, she couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of vulnerability roiling within.
As if sensing the tension in the room, Phaedra said, “It’s alright, Mistress. You’ve nothing I haven’t seen before.” She smiled softly.
Hazel laughed awkwardly and swallowed her pride as the angel gently lifted the shift over her head.
And then there was the tub itself, fit for a king. It was porcelain, except for the gilded clawed paws on which it stood. A far cry from her former bathing experiences.
She tested the water and found it so hot it nearly scalded her skin.
But she’d been caked in blood, sweat, and dirt for enough days she figured it was going to take the hottest water she could stand and a lot of scrubbing for her to feel whole again.
Plus, hot water was a luxury. She’d only taken a few hot baths in her lifetime, and only when she’d fallen ill or injured.
And Phaedra was there, helping Hazel as she stepped into the tub, legs shaking like a fresh fawn in the spring. She held Hazel’s hands and helped her lower her battered body into the steaming water.
Hazel hissed as she sunk her lower half in, the heat nipping at the sensitive skin. Though her cuts were well on their way to healing, the hot water made them feel torn anew. Her face pinched, eyes squinting as she tried to bear down and stay stronger than she felt.
“It helps sometimes if you breathe through it, Mistress. Deep, slow breaths.”
Hazel did as she was told and though she was uncertain if it did anything to stave off the pain, it at least gave her something else to focus on. Gods above, no wonder I was unconscious for so long.
When she was finally resting comfortably, everything but her head below the surface, Phaedra retreated from the room without a word. Hazel opened her eyes, startled to find the angel gone. “Hello?” Her voice was so small, swallowed in the large bathing chamber.
Phaedra returned with a basket of what appeared to be soap, brushes, and vials of something.
She smiled warmly. “Brushes, soaps, and scented oils, Mistress. For your choosing. I also have a few massage oils here that Master Elias delivered himself. The oils will help soothe the pain from your muscles and help them heal faster. There aren’t many days until the trials start. ”
“I see. Well, thank you. You can just set them there beside the tub, and I’ll pick one out.”
Phaedra looked perplexed, as though conflicted on whether she really ought to leave.
Hazel sighed. “You’re right. I’m not going to be able to do any of this myself, am I?”
“I suppose not, Mistress.” She looked at Hazel with soft, pitying eyes.
“We may as well get to know each other then, eh? So. Which oil would you recommend?”
Phaedra, more than eager to help, jumped right into explaining the various properties and benefits of each herbal mixture, and once Hazel had selected one, she set it off to the side.
Then, Phaedra grabbed a stiff-bristled brush and began working the goat’s milk soap into it vigorously until it was frothed into a lather.
Initially, the bristles hurt. But as the scrubbing went on, Hazel found it almost calming. Phaedra was exceptionally careful around her cuts and bruises, or at least the more severe ones. To avoid them all would have meant neglecting to wash more than half of Hazel’s body.
She next addressed Hazel’s hair—the mangled, tangled mess of chestnut frizz streaked with mud and muck. Phaedra lathered her hair into a sudsy cloud and began working her fingers down to Hazel’s scalp. Oh, gods, this is incredible.
Phaedra laughed softly, and Hazel wondered if she might have let out an audible moan. Her cheeks heated, though the color of her embarrassment was hidden by the pink flush from the hot water and intense scrubbing.
Once she was finished, the angel grabbed a small pail and began rinsing the soap from Hazel’s hair and body. “There, now. Nice and clean.” It was clear from her tone of voice Phaedra was proud of her handiwork.
The last part of this extensive, exhausting bathing ritual ended up being the most sensual, wonderful experience of her entire life.
Phaedra set to work rubbing the lavender and lemongrass scented oil into her scalp and then moved down the back of her neck with strong fingers, driving away the soreness there.
She did the same across Hazel’s shoulders and back, careful not to get the oil into any healing cuts.
Lastly, she pulled Hazel’s hands from the water one at a time, patted them dry, and massaged the oil into them from her forearms to her fingertips.
At the end of it all, Hazel was as limp as steamed cabbage. Though her body was clean and invigorated, her eyes were heavy.
Phaedra helped her dry off and carefully escorted her back to the bedchamber. Once Hazel was situated comfortably, the angel made to take her leave. “Rest now, Mistress. I will return if you are summoned.”
Fighting sleep, Hazel managed to crack one eye open. “Phaedra?”
“Yes, Mistress?”
“Thank you for your help,” she said wearily.
“It is my pleasure to serve you, Mistress.” She turned to leave.
“And Phaedra?”
“Yes, Mistress?”
“Please, call me Hazel.”
Phaedra nodded. “As you wish, Hazel. Sleep well.” She bowed deeply, and for the first time, Hazel noticed something unusual about the angel’s wings.
They were clipped in the same way a captive bird’s would be.
The thought turned her stomach sour and made her even more certain of one thing above all else.
The more time she spent in this castle, the less likely she was getting out alive.