Chapter 43 The Shadows
THE SHADOWS
The world tilted as Hazel grappled with reality.
As Agnes spoke, she might as well have been floating outside her body, a spectator to her own life.
Her head swam with all the new information, but mostly, that Agnes was resigned to her fate.
That she knew she would perish and was at peace with that fact. Hazel, however, was not.
Her eyes welled over, and she pulled Agnes into as much of an embrace as she could with the cold iron bars between them and the chains restraining their extremities. The other questions, though burning, could wait. She never wanted to let this moment go.
Agnes pulled out of the hug slightly to look at Hazel. She always had that knowing gaze about her. The one that wrapped around Hazel’s soul like a warm wool cloak.
She sighed softly. “We all have a role to play in this life, my dear, and mine has been a higher honor than I ever could have asked for. When I looked upon you as a babe, it was difficult to imagine what you were to become. But looking at you now, it’s unmistakable.”
“I-I don’t understand, Agnes. I am no one,” she whimpered.
“You, my dear Hazel, are going to break the chains holding witches back. You will shatter the world as we know it, and you will reforge it into something better. The Thousand Years War occurred so that one day a descendant of Adelladonna Moonwater would rise and reclaim what was taken from us, restoring our people and our homeland, and repairing the broken bonds between us and other peoples. That descendant is you, Hazel.” She paused abruptly.
“Now, back to your side, over there. Someone comes.” And with that Agnes retreated to the far side of her cell.
A lone guard entered the dungeon and removed his helm. Oswald One-eye. Hazel’s locket heated as he entered.
“Heh, if it isn’t the dog’s pet, got herself caught in quite the mess.
Where’s mister dark and broody now, pet?
Have you figured it out? Slaide is a dog, not just in name, but by nature.
He uses a bitch while she’s easy, and when the going gets rough, he moves on to the next. Face it, pet, you’ve been forgotten.”
She wanted to grow talons just as Slaide did so she could claw Oswald’s remaining eye out herself.
“Oh, don’t you worry, pet. Oswald here is going to take good care of you, eh? And when I’m through with you, we can see if anyone else would like a turn. You’ll never be lonely, and you can forget about that Fallenborn bastard whelp. How’s that sound?”
Hazel backed away from the cell door, trying to create space between them. She would fight him if she had to, but she would likely lose. And then everyone would know she was a fraud, that she was not some prophesied hero.
Oswald palmed the cudgel at his side, unhooking it from the loop on his belt.
He caught her eyeing the movement. “Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little face about this here.
Just a precaution. But you’re gonna be a good girl and not make me use it, eh?
That’s right. Just be a good little witch whore, and you get out of here alive. ”
He stepped toward her, undoing his belt and the top button of his breeches.
Gods, give me strength. Goddesses, hear me. Agnes somehow knew Hazel made it out of here alive. If prophesies could be believed, maybe she did. But no one said anything about getting out unscathed. And no one, not even Agnes, could pull her from this living nightmare.
He stalked toward her, his demented, one-eyed gaze peeling the clothes from her body.
No. I will not be a victim today. But I will play one.
“Please, don’t hurt me. I’ll do anything you ask,” Hazel whined.
“Now there’s a good girl. Come to your senses at last. Be good and sit for me.” He put his hands on her shoulders, pushing her down. She obliged, though her stomach roiled at the proximity of him. He stood over her, gesturing for her to lie back.
This better work, you idiot, she scolded herself, trying to keep the underlying panic from taking over. She feigned a whimper. “Please…”
His breeches dropped to the floor, and Hazel was thankful his guard’s uniform was long enough to obscure the view. When he straddled her, trying to get her to look, she averted her eyes. She just had to hang on to her sanity a little longer.
But then he made an unexpected move, throttling Hazel’s only plan to survive this encounter. He grabbed the chain between her manacled wrists and hooked it to an eyelet in the floor. So much for strangling him with the chain, she thought, arms pulled tight overhead.
Oswald tsked at her, wagging a finger. “Can’t have you getting any ideas now, can we?
” Then he pulled her shift up above her breasts, exposing them to the brisk dungeon air.
Beneath her underclothes, her nipples peaked in response to the chill on her skin.
A slimy grin crawled across his face as he mistook it for eagerness.
“My, my. You are a little witch whore, aren’t you? No wonder Slaide kept you on a tight leash.” He knelt over her then, and she could feel his breath on her skin. With his knee, he pushed hers apart, smiling down at his view as her knees fell to the side.
Hazel clamped her eyes shut. “Please. I am begging you. Don’t…” She didn’t want to fight him, didn’t want to provoke more violence against herself, but she wasn’t just going to put up with this.
“Ooh, beg more, pet. I like that,” he sneered.
His eyes landed between her breasts, at the secret notes she'd folded and hidden there.
"What do we have here?" He snatched them, his rough, calloused fingers brushing against her soft, sensitive skin.
He unfolded one and frowned, clearly unable to decipher the madness written there.
"A coded message, eh? Well, now. Seems I have even more reason to punish you, don't I? "
His words were met with a knee to the groin. He bucked and fell to the side, writhing in pain and groaning curse words in her direction. Hazel knew she was going to regret that, but he was making an awful lot of noise. Maybe she’d bought herself enough time for someone to come investigate.
But no one came.
After a few minutes, Oswald was right as rain and royally pissed off. He slapped her across the face and threatened her with the cudgel.
“If you try something stupid like that again, I am going to paint this cell with your blood. Starting with that face of yours. Understand?”
She whimpered, the handprint on her cheek pulsing an angry red.
He lowered his body against hers, and his breath was suffocating as he spoke, sour with the stench of too much ale. “I am going to ruin you, you filthy—”
He was cut off. Hazel opened his eyes to see Oswald’s face turning an ugly purple hue, his remaining eye turning red with bursting blood vessels. He was being choked to death.
By shadows.
The tendrils of darkness constricted, lifting him up and away from Hazel’s exposed body.
But they didn’t release him, not even once he’d been dragged kicking and flailing a safe distance away.
Only after he went limp did the shadows release their grip on the man, slinking back to their owner, who stood in the doorway, his ominous form silhouetted by the flickering brazier.
When she noticed him there, Hazel loosed a half-sigh, half-sob.
Slaide stepped into the cell, his wings and claws retracting as though they’d never existed. As he approached, there was a gleam in his onyx eyes as they returned to their normal, golden hue. He came. He came for her.
His face was expressionless, and yet she could feel the rage seething off him as he stepped over her to remove her chains from the iron eyelet.
“Did he hurt you?” His voice was flat but wavered with barely repressed anger.
She shook her head. “Not in any way that matters.” Her voice was unsteady.
“Hazel, look at me. Did. He. Hurt. You?” Each word was ground out. He wasn’t mad at her. No, he was looking for a reason to grind Oswald to a bloody pulp against the stone floor.
He reached for her chin, and she flinched away from him, throwing her arm up in front of her face.
Slaide recoiled, his eyes going wide and nostrils flaring.
Then he reached more slowly, gently cupping her chin between his thumb and finger and turned her face to his.
When his gaze caught on the redness spreading across her cheek, he let go and looked over his shoulder where Oswald lie unconscious. A growl vibrated deep within his chest.
Hazel reached out and touched his hand. “Slaide.”
He took a deep breath, turning to face her, and pulled her into a hug. “I’m going to fucking kill him,” he whispered into her ear.
Slaide pulled back then, looking into her eyes.
“I-I really am okay, Slaide. He didn’t… it wasn’t… I kneed him in the balls before he could, and I…” She really thought she was alright, but a single tear ran down her face. The shock set in, the reality of what had just happened hitting her with a force. She tried and failed to choke down a sob.
He hugged her again. “Shh, shh. It’s okay.
You’re safe now. You are so brave and strong, standing up to him.
I am just sorry I was not here sooner.” He stroked her hair.
“I knew something was up as soon as I got wind of your transfer. They’re intentionally keeping me out of the loop.
I…” He faded off, shaking his head. “This is my fucking fault.”
Hazel sniffled.
“Oswald,” he began. “He didn’t come here to hurt you. He came here to try and hurt me. He saw us that day before the throne room doors and probably assumed I was fucking you. I should have stayed away from you. Far, far away. You would have been better off.”