Love, Mother #2
“It seems that way. Mistress, I must insist you use caution moving forward. I sense something is amiss. Most of the slaves have been extra quiet today, even in our common spaces. Whispers in the halls indicate something insidious happening tonight. That the trial might test one’s morality and allegiance to the crown. ”
Right. Because in the end, that’s what this was. A tournament designed to test the mettle, wit, and allegiance of the King’s prospective champions.
This didn’t bode well for her.
“Alright. That’s that then. How the Hel do I dress for this when I don’t know what the trial is?” Hazel wondered, her blood pressure starting to rise.
Phaedra shrugged. “I suppose you should dress for combat. Something you can move freely in. Just in case.”
Hazel eyed her wardrobe. She could almost see Sylvie’s battle leathers within, mocking her with their existence. She truly couldn’t escape Slaide’s influence, no matter how hard she tried.
She heaved a sigh. “Combat it is then, I guess.”
The competitors were rounded up just before dusk, the setting sun painting the sky in a myriad of pinks and oranges. On any other day, in any other place, Hazel would have found it beautiful.
But as they gathered in the courtyard awaiting the announcement of their fates, Hazel found it foreboding, as thought the sky was already ablaze with wildfire.
As she shifted from one foot to the other, she caught Slaide staring out over the crowd with a scowl smudging his features. He was looking for someone.
For her, probably. If he truly cared, he wouldn’t have betrayed my trust. It was an important distinction, and once she came to terms with it, moving on was easier.
When his gaze passed over her, he froze.
The heat of those twin molten-amber pools flowed into her even from a distance.
It caused her to reach for the locket that she’s chosen to put back on, hoping it had retained its magic.
When her eyes locked with Slaide’s, Hazel forgot everything in an instant, at least until someone shoved her forward.
“Keep moving,” a gruff, unshaven man mumbled. So she did. When she stopped again, she found Slaide once more. But the man beside him sent shivers down her spine and boiled her blood equally. It was the King.
She’d expected Magnus’s presence, of course, but to see them standing almost shoulder to shoulder… It hurt somehow. So much so that she wondered if he was standing there against his will. Especially when she noticed the Archmage, Gammen, on the King’s other side.
Magnus stood, and a hush spread over the crowd. Though she supposed it wasn’t much of a crowd anymore, seeing as there were fewer competitors left than guards.
He scanned the faces, stopping when he landed on her. An ugly, evil smirk stretched across his face. To her surprise, the locket warmed on her chest.
Slaide didn’t budge. Didn’t show any emotion whatsoever.
“Welcome, competitors, to the final leg of the tournament!” Magnus shouted, voice unnaturally loud. Leave it to the anti-magic King to use his own mages’ tricks to amplify his voice…
“The ten of you have proven yourselves worthy of being here, one way or another. Even if some of you have hung on by the skin of your teeth,” he continued. Laughter filled the void left when he stopped speaking.
Ten. She was one of only ten competitors left.
“So far, you’ve overcome two trials. One designed to test your stamina, dexterity, adaptability.
The other was designed to challenge your mental fortitude and ability to withstand pressure.
All of these attributes are things we look for—require, even—in our Raven Blade Knights.
So to be considered as the Champion of Ravenhold, you must be all of those things and then some.
Unfortunately for some of you, survival is no longer enough as of tonight. ” He paused to look directly at Hazel.
“Tonight,” his voice boomed, “we have a special trial. One intended to test your willingness to do as you’re told without question.
A trial that will test your undying allegiance to your King and kingdom.
Because above all, you must swear your life to upholding our laws at any cost. Even if it means doing something that challenges you to your core. ”
Hazel swallowed hard. Unnerved and uncomfortable, she looked to Slaide for comfort but received none. His eyes were wide, and his nostrils flared in that animalistic look he got when something deeply worried him.
Her heart raced beneath the heating locket. Something was wrong.
Somewhere across the courtyard, a door groaned on its hinges and the scraping of chains on stone could be heard. An almost rhythmic pattern of two marching footfalls followed by the scraping chain marked the approach of a group of people. But Hazel couldn’t see them over the crowd.
That was until the men around her parted, making room for the line of prisoners to file in.
Shock rattled her as a line of ten disheveled women were dragged before them, shackled and connected to one another by iron chains. They were bruised and bloody, with matted hair and rags for clothes.
As she connected their arrival with what Magnus had said during his announcement, Hazel fought the urge to falter. To run.
Moments later, Magnus confirmed her fears.
“Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, we’re killing witches.”