Chapter 42 With Friends Like These…
WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE…
Hazel sat in a dark corner, knees pulled to her chest. What an absolute fucking disaster. How could someone’s life be upended so drastically in just over a week’s time? What had she done to deserve this, for this to be her fate?
She’d been out for hours. When she finally awoke, she’d laid there, wishing to disappear.
Each time a guard entered, she’d feigned sleep, and they’d left her alone.
After a while, she crawled to the darkest corner of her cell and stayed there.
Guards came and went, offering food, drink.
Probably making sure she was still alive.
And unfortunately, she was. No one else who truly mattered to her could say the same. They were gone.
Her stomach growled audibly. She was hungry, despite her insistence that she wasn’t.
She crept out of her corner, chains scraping against the stone floor as she went.
They’d left a small piece of bread and an even smaller chunk of cheese.
Her stomach gurgled, and she eyed the plate suspiciously.
They’d be stupid to poison me, right? Not that she actually cared.
All she could think about was how she should have died right there alongside him.
But no… that wasn’t fair. She had to live. For Agnes.
She gnawed off a stale bite of bread and formed the beginnings of a plan.
Hazel was awoken later by the whirring, buzzing sound of the iron door being unlocked.
Her skin tingled as the magic field changed.
Someone was coming in. Some part of her hoped it was Slaide, hoped he had returned to discuss how he was getting her out of here.
Since she’d started planning her next moves, she’d been kicking herself for not making the most of the time she’d had with him.
But no, she’d chosen to be a brat instead.
Nothing could have prepared her for the very not-Slaide form that stepped through the door.
Or the fact that anyone else would have made her feel a sense of ease.
But there it was as Zeke entered the inner sanctum containing her cell.
The way her shoulders dropped, releasing the tension she’d ignored.
And she sighed the most generous sigh of relief.
“Hazel?” he asked, closing the door behind him without locking it. “It’s Zeke. I’m on your security detail for this rotation. Just wanted to see if you were alright.”
She immediately noticed his tone was off, a far cry from his jovial self. She second-guessed coming out of the safety of her shadows. He sounded uncaring… unfeeling. And her locket… it warmed.
“You should know,” he began, “Agnes is… well, she’s in a lot of trouble, Hazel.
A lot of people got hurt last night, and they’re saying you caused it.
That you interfered with a lawful, court-sanctioned arrest, led a counter-riot, and then used your magic against the citizens of Aeos and several knights. ”
She said nothing, still trying to decide if he was fucking serious or not.
He sighed, sounding defeated. “They’re planning to use her against you, so you know. Hurting her to punish you. Is that what you wanted? Do you understand how much of a mess you’ve made? If you had just let the arrest go down like it was intended to, none of this would have happened.”
Hazel was boiling from the inside, her iron chains hissing against her skin as the magic neutralized.
“She would at least have had a chance to stand trial. But now… now they’re putting her to the pyre. Day after tomorrow.”
Hazel lunged toward him. “How dare you come in here and speak to me as though you have any gods-damned idea what happened out there!” she spat.
To Zeke’s credit, he didn’t step back from the bars. Didn’t so much as flinch.
“Here I thought you were coming to me as a friend, to offer support and let me in on the plan to get me out of here. But no, you just had to rub salt in my wounds, didn’t you? You’ve changed, Ezekiel, and not for the better.”
A furrow formed between his dark brown brows. “Plan to get you… Hazel what are you talking about?”
She watched as realization smacked him in the face. And smiled. He actually had the audacity to smile at her, and it was the darkest expression she’d ever seen on his face.
“Oh, Hazel. Don’t tell me your boyfriend said he was going to get you out of here?
” He shook his head mockingly. Zeke stepped up to the cell and held the bars in his hands.
An obsidian stone ring inlaid with onyx glinted upon his right ring finger.
“I warned you. I told you Slaide was bad news back when you crossed his path in the market. But you just had to see for yourself, didn’t you?
” His eyes shone with a darkness she didn’t recognize.
“What happened to you, Zeke?” she questioned, a sadness lacing her tone. A sharp pain stabbed through her as she accepted the friend she thought she knew was gone. Replaced by a brainwashed monster.
“What happened to me? That’s rich, coming from you.
You’re a witch for fuck’s sake. A witch in a kingdom sworn against magic.
That’s not the person I grew up with. How can you sit there and ask me how or why I’ve changed when you’ve changed most of all?
Hazel, my family has suffered greatly by the presence of un-tithed magic wielders in this kingdom.
They’re supposed to report to the monolith on the Tithe day following their manifestation and give their magic over to power the Border.
They get a tracker implanted that allows the Magistry to monitor their magic levels throughout their life, and terminate them remotely if necessary.
To refuse to do so… Hazel, it’s treason. It puts all of us at risk.”
“Do you actually hear the bullshit running out of your mouth? You act like I chose this. You’re insane.”
“No, what’s insane is you keeping this from me for so long. For evading the laws of this land. At one time I might have been able to help you, but now I can’t.”
“You can’t, or you won’t? Choose carefully,” she snapped.
Zeke stared into her eyes, his expression blank. He was so cold. So unfeeling. So not Zeke.
“Goodbye, Hazel,” he responded, turning his back on her for the last time. And just like that, she lost another loved one.
Zeke was dead to her.
Hazel returned to her corner with ambition after that. She wasn’t going to die behind iron bars, and Agnes wasn’t going to be put to the stake. Not without a fight, anyway.
The next time a guard appeared with a tray of scraps for her to eat, she cleaned her plate.
It wasn’t much, but it helped to settle the massive void that had developed within her.
She gathered the old blanket and returned to her corner to rest. But her hunger for food was replaced by something deeper. She was hungry for vengeance.
She wasn’t expecting any visitors the rest of the night, so she spent her quiet hours planning and plotting.
There were no windows, so she had no idea whether it was night or day.
Guards came and went, occasionally bringing food or a cup of water.
Every now and then, someone would poke their head in, clearly making sure she was still there.
Sleep finally found her, dragging her down with it. She’d been asleep for mere minutes when she was startled awake by the familiar grate and groan of the cell door opening. She was instantly alert, wiping the sleep from her eyes and pulling back into her shadows.
The guard entered without a word and didn’t so much as look for her. He didn’t even glance toward the corner where Hazel hid. He simply came in, set her tray down, and left as quietly as he’d come, with only the groaning door to mark his exit.
Well, that was certainly unusual.
A flurry of movement—an orange blur—caught her eye. And to Hazel’s surprise, someone else slipped in just before the door closed. Or rather, something. A big, orange cat. He slunk into the shadows and slipped between the bars of her cell, at last finding his place by her side, purring deeply.
“You poor thing. Probably wondering where I was, huh? Shh, it’s alright.”
Hazel waited a while before going to investigate, passing the time by scratching her companion’s head and listening to his contented purrs.
Whatever he’d left, it smelled… fresh. The fact that it had any smell at all was something in itself.
But the fact that the smell was warm, buttery—and with a hint of honey—well, she was practically drooling.
When she could no longer stand it, she all but ran to the tray of food to find a steaming bowl of baked apples and a pastry. That must have been where the heavenly smell was coming from.
Gods, an outsider would have thought she’d been locked up for weeks as opposed to days, the way she stood over her meal. As loudly as her stomach protested, she wasn’t entirely convinced of it herself.
Wanting to save the pastry for last, she dug into the piping hot apples and nearly melted into a puddle with how perfectly cooked they were.
The caramelized sugar, the unbelievably soft yet still crunchy apples, and the perfect dash of cinnamon.
She eyed the pastry, wondering if it would hold up to the decadent bowl of apples.
Setting them aside, she picked up the flaky-crusted delicacy—still warm.
She took a large bite, crunching through the layers of exquisite, rich dough, and her eyes rolled back in her head. It was filled with tart dragonberry.
She took another bite, flinching when her teeth met something inedible and hard.
“What in the name of the blustering damned gods?” Hazel hissed through aching teeth. The cat, who’d been weaving in and out of her legs impatiently, paused and looked up at her.
She broke the pastry in two and found a tiny glass vial had been baked into the dessert. After removing it, she pulled the cork stopper and retrieved the rolled parchment within. It was a note: