Page 16 of Too Hexed to Handle

Goosebumps prickle over my arms as I wrap a towel around myself and creep in to the near safety of my room (there are no counters to attack me in here, but my chest of drawers has made its presence known on more than one occasion).

I toss a pair of stockings and a pleated pink skirt on the bed before rummaging through my wardrobe for . . . What is the appropriate attire for a quest? I rifle through my collection of hexmark-hiding blouses, wishing one of them would come across as more daring than the others.

My door bursts open.

Turns out I’m not daring at all, because I immediately shriek, leaping backwards as the door slams against lilac-painted walls, rattling the painting of a basket filled with kittens hanging nearby. Astin stands in the frame. He’s panting heavily, hair strangely out of place, like whatever’s unsettled him has also negated his unnatural ability to appear permanently tidy.

‘Astin,’ I say, checking my towel is secure. ‘What are you doing?’

He’s never ventured inside my room before, and his sturdy form looks out of place among all the soft furnishings and pastel colours, like he’s a blade poised to cut through an iced cake. His boots track mud on the carpet as he steps further inside, ignoring my squawks of protest.

‘You’re a terrible liar, you know that?’ he says.

‘I have no idea what you mean,’ I lie, in case this one sticks. There’s an alarmingly familiar scrap of paper in his hand. ‘Can this wait? I’m naked, in case you haven’t noticed.’

‘You’re –’ He blinks. His attention turns to my exposed chest, lingering on the moisture collected there, before flicking lower to where my legs stick out from beneath the towel. He scrunches the paper so hard I’m afraid it might rip. ‘Would you care to explain why you’re awake this early?’

‘I’m often awake at this time. You wouldn’t know because you’re busy murdering people.’

He doesn’t take the bait.

‘You’ve never woken this early as long as I’ve known you.’ He prowls closer. I step back. He really isn’t grasping the whole Daisy is in a towel situation. ‘What was this doing in your pocket?’

The advert is brandished as violently as he wielded that poker yesterday.

‘How am I supposed to know? Do you remember every piece of paper you put in your pocket?’

What am I saying? The man probably has an itemised list of his pocket contents.

‘Daisy.’

‘Astin.’ Hexes, must he be so difficult? Can’t a girl go on a dangerous adventure without being interrogated about the stupidity of the idea?

‘Why wouldn’t you tell me what your plan to save the inn is?’

‘Because it doesn’t concern you.’ I readjust my towel where it’s slipping. I would like to get dressed now, for several reasons, starting with I’m cold and ending with this towel is about to drop to the floor.

Maybe I should let it. The sight of me naked might startle him into leaving.

‘It concerns me if your plan is to put your faith in something that’s clearly a hoax.’ He shakes his head. ‘Easy solutions don’t fall into your lap, Dais. Life doesn’t work that way.’

‘Well, if it’s a hoax I’ll come straight home, and you can tell me, I told you so.’

‘If you come home at all. The Emerald King could be a Souleater, and this is a ploy to lure unsuspecting humans into his lair.’

I roll my eyes. Of course his first assumption is that a Souleater is involved. I won’t deny there’s a knot in my stomach at the possibility he’s right. Saying they’ve found the infamous cure would be an easy way to entice their enemies into a trap; rabbits hopping straight into a wolf’s den.

But I have to take the risk.

‘Well, unless you have twenty thousand gold coins hidden away, the reward on offer is our best chance at saving this place.’

He doesn’t respond straight away, clearly trying to conjure some other excuse to deter me. My hair drips water down my back like cold sweat.

Finally, he nods. ‘Then I’ll go instead.’

What? Panic flares in my veins as he marches for the door as though that’s the conversation closed, like he gets to decide to take my place, and I’ll happily agree. If this was only about the inn, maybe I’d be cowardly enough to let him. But it’s not. I need the cure. If he goes, if he wins, he’ll hand it to the Emerald King and, yes, the inn would be saved, but I wouldn’t be. I have to be the one to reach it first.

‘Wait!’ I dart in front of him and press my back to the door, clicking the lock for good measure. This does little to deter him. He looms closer and closer, like an ever-increasing shadow, invading my space until I’m bathed in the scent of earth and pine and whatever else he’s dug up recently.