Good Morning, Little Ones!

Thank you to Mel, Jill, and Dani!

.: 46 :.

I hate being back in the Hazel Court. As far as I'm concerned, if I never have to see this beautiful, wretched place again, my life would be all the better.

Following the guards isn't all that hard. They are talking, and they're loud, which means I don't have to work that hard to cloak myself. Slipping past the gate and the main doors, on the other hand, is a feat. It requires timing I don't have and an ability to sneak which I definitely don't possess.

In the end, I think luck more than anything helps me in.

Once I'm inside, my luck runs out. The Hazel Castle is immense, and I have no idea where anything is. What's more, my magic won't glom onto my surroundings here. It needs the natural world to cloak me, which means I'm utterly exposed.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Terrified, I creep through hall after hall, ducking behind literally anything I can whenever I hear even the faintest of footsteps. Am I paranoid? Yeah, but I know that paranoia will keep me safe, even if it's for only a few more steps.

The castle is a labyrinth, and the deeper I get into it, the more hopeless I feel. Even if I can find the library, what are the odds there is some sort of index lying around that tells me where to find the scroll? With each step, I'm more and more annoyed with Edward and myself; Edward for getting me into this stupid fucking situation when we had agreed the plan was to stick together, and myself for not being a faster thinker on my feet when he pressured me into this.

A scraping sound catches my ear, and I scurry to duck under heavy velvet window drapes, my heart bouncing in my ribs. I wait, holding my breath, listening to see if the scraping is getting further away or closer to me.

It's impossible to tell, and after a few minutes, I have to face the fact that I can't wait behind the curtain forever.

Steeling myself, I climb out from my hiding spot and continue forward on my path. The scraping is getting louder as I wander down the hall, and I'm about to duck and hide again when I see a familiar figure.

He's stooped over, his body bent and mangled at unnatural angles. My gasp wracks my whole body as I run toward him. "Alistair?" I breathe, dropping on my knees beside him.

He looks up at me, startled.

"Wha' are ye doin' here?" He grunts, and I see his fingers curl around a thick brush. It's only then I realize the bucket beside him. Is he scrubbing the floors?

"I thought you died," I whisper, tears filling my eyes. "You were torn apart."

He snorts, turning his body to the floor. "Wish I had died," he says darkly. "They pieced me back together 'nough to keep me goin'. This is the price fer helpin' ye."

My stomach drops. "Why did you help me?" I ask. "You'd already repaid my debt."

He glares up at me. "My sovereign bade me."

My stomach drops. "What?"

He returns his attention to the floors. "When the other one found out, oh they were mad." He shakes his head. "I've been sent to a lifetime of this." He holds out the brush, and it's then I see his palms are blistering and bleeding. I gasp, reaching for his hands. He drops the brush, and I see that the back of it is decorated with a thin iron plate.

"What is this?" I demand.

"It's the iron." He huffs. "I'll be poisoned by it before I can serve out my sentence."

He motions toward his mangled lower body, and I see that his useless hooves are clad in iron as well. I gasp. "This is barbaric." I hiss.

"That's fealty," he says.

I stare at him.

"You pay too much for your fealty," I snap. He shrugs, like it doesn't concern him. "I need to get you out of here."

Alistair snorts. "You'd be better killin' me. I'm no good fer life no more."

I shake my head. "No, I won't do that. I can fix this."

He sighs. "Stupid Witch." He pulls his hands from mine. "Learnt nothin', I see." He pauses and glances up at me. "Though, there is a touch of something different about ye. A new life brewing in ye?"

"I'm not pregnant," I say quietly.

His eyes narrow.

"No, I suppose not."

I sigh. "Alistair, let me help you, please."

"Kill me," he says simply. "'Cause if ye don', things'll get worse fer me."

Part of me doesn't want to accept that answer, but part of me realizes it's true. If he was punished like this for helping me after being ordered to do exactly that, I can't imagine the punishment he would receive for even talking to me now.

I let out a hard breath. "I don't think I can kill you," I whisper. I really don't know if I have it in me, not like this.

He shakes his head.

"Why do ye fear somethin' so natural?" He grunts. "Death comes for us all, don'it?"

I frown. "Yes, but I don't have to be the one delivering it."

He rolls his eyes. "If yer too coward to help me, move on."

It feels like an icy fist is gripping my stomach. I can't leave him, not again. I owe him more than that, even if he only helped me last time on an order. I swallow hard and lick my lips before speaking. "How do I kill you?"

He looks up at me, his eyes wide with his surprise. He stares at me a moment, before he finally nods. "A quick death, if ye don' mind?"

My lips quiver at the thought, and my mind centers on the knife in my bag. "Fine," I agree. "But first, I need one last thing."

He glares up at me. "Havn' you took enough?"

I drop to my knees beside him. "I'm here for the Viper Queen," I whisper, my voice so soft, I wonder if he can hear me. His ears twitch and his eyes widen. "I need her amulet."

Alistair stares at me, and I wonder if I've made a grave mistake telling him this. What if he is loyal to her, though I can't imagine how he would be after she subjected him to this.

Finally he nods. "Then ye are likely to meet death soon as well," he says. "The only way to get that amulet from her is to kill her."

A chill runs down my spine. "Perhaps," I whisper.

"Ye will have to kill her, or ye will die tryin'."

I swallow. "Yes," I agree.

His eyes squint.

"But ye wouldn' kill me?"

I let out a breath. "I don't consider the Viper Queen a friend."

He looks at me suspiciously. "I don' even know yer name."

"I'm Bella," I say softly with a smile.

"Soft name," he says after a moment. "Don' suit you."

I grin. "Would you prefer to keep calling me Witch?"

His lips twitch. "Wouldn' mind it," he says with a small nod. "What is it ye need from me, Witch?"

"My companion told me there is a scroll, hidden in the library, that will give me more information, hopefully clues as to how to use the amulet." I pause. "But I have no idea where I am."

Alistair nods. "Library's no' far." He tilts his chin down the hall. "Twenty or so doors down. Ye'll know when ye see it. It has the stench of paper an' ink."

I let out a breath. "Thank you, Alistair."

He looks up at me. "Will you end me now, Witch?"

Tears well in my eyes as I pull the hunting knife from my bag. One of the many things Edward and I stole from the village before we left. "I'm so sorry this has what has become of your life," I whisper, my eyes swelling with tears.

Alistair sighs.

"Dyin' with a friend don' seem so bad," he whispers, flipping his body over. His mangled legs clunk against the stone floor. My tears spill over, splashing down my cheeks. "Never though' I'd see tears over my death," he murmurs.

I swallow hard.

"Tell me how to do this."

He nods. "Cuttin' my throat will be quickest," he says thoughtfully. "But if ye hesitate, it won' be pleasant."

I nod, understanding. I don't know how to slit a throat; I've never needed to know how, but I also know, this throat might not be the only one I need to slit today.

"I can do it," I say with a confidence I don't feel.

He looks up at me.

"Ye know," he says, his voice very quiet. "There is a touch of somethin' differen' abou' ye."

I smile a little. "I know, I'm a dumb human."

He shakes his head. "No," he murmurs. "I see golden wings abou' ye."

I don't know what to make of that, and he takes a deep breath. "I'll turn over," he says softly. "It'll be easier." He flips back onto his belly then reaches up, pointing to his neck. "Star' here. Move fast an' deep across 'til here." He points across his throat, showing me the angle of the blade. "No' much holdin' me alive. It'll be quick."

I swallow hard. I have to do this for him. I owe him so much; it's the least I can do.

I step toward him, the knife in my hand shaking as I bring it up under his throat. "Goddess, be with us," I murmur. I take a deep breath, then applying as much pressure as I can, I slice his throat clean open.