The other appeared to be driven up by the carriage house valet, who dismounted the driver’s seat and applied the locking brake to the wheel. He stood beside it, unbothered as he waited for the owner to arrive.
Someone was leaving.
Slaide elbowed Hazel, and she nearly cussed him out before catching herself.
“We are getting you on that wagon,” Slaide whispered. “It might be your only chance to get out of here.”
She whirled on him. “What are you saying?Myonly chance? You’re coming with me.”
He just stared at her.
Panic set in. Slaide was just barely tolerable, yes, but he’d saved her ass multiple times and she had admittedly grown comfortable with him around. On her own… she found she didn’t know exactlyhowto be on her own. There had always been someone.
Connall.
Agnes.
Zeke.
Slaide.
One was dead. One would die. One was dead to her. And one was forcing her to leave him behind.
She sucked in air, unable to form words.
“I can’t come with you.”
Something within her was cracking. “I don’t understand.”
“There are things I have to take care of. People… there are people depending on me to protect them… to get them somewhere safe if I can.” He looked ashamed. Embarrassed even.
It smacked her in the face then. Every half-truth, every absence came slamming down at once. “Y—you’re smuggling refugees. You’re getting them out. Not killing them.” Merrill. Merrill the mirror had shown her this. But she’d written it off as a lie.
Slaide winked at her. “You’re smarter than you let on.”
She ignored the jab. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me that, instead of letting me think you were the vilest creature ever to exist?”
He cocked his head. “You think so highly of me? I’m flattered, sweets.”
Hazel shook her head. “Of the stupid things you’ve done, this tops them all.”
Slaide raised a brow. “That might be a stretch, although you don’t know half of what I’ve done in my short life. Andno oneknows what I’ll do next. Hel, sometimes I surprise even myself. But let me remind you, Iamthat awful creature. No amount of sacrifice will ever compensate for the people I’ve hurt and killed. The throats I’ve ripped out with my teeth, the still-beating hearts I’ve squeezed in the palm of my hand. I did those things, andI have no one to blame but myself.” And he did. He did blame himself. Hazel could see it etched into his features.
On the surface, it was his fault. He was a monster who hunted his victims for sport. But wasn’t that how he’d been designed? After all, his parents had been bred like prized horses hoping that Slaide would be the result. An unfeeling killing machine with superior strength, stamina, and a thirst for blood. That wasn’t his fault.
A distant voice called out, a booming voice, too loud to be natural. Probably amplified by magic, because wouldn’t that be the culmination of all the hypocrisy she’d seen in this kingdom? The use of magic at a magic-user’s execution? It was just far enough away that she couldn’t quite make out the words.
Slaide tilted his head, focused. His eyes met Hazel’s. Clearly, he could hear what she could not, presumably another feature of his superhuman genetics. Not human. Angel. Nephilim.Other.
He closed his eyes.
“The sentencing has begun.”
“Wait. You mean she gets an actual trial?” The hope in her voice was devastatingly palpable, and unfortunately misplaced.
He shook his head. “No. The sentencing is just a formality. It’s an announcement of her crimes, no doubt embellished to work up the crowd. No trial, though. His mind is made up, and her fate is set.”
Fates be damned. She was so tired of the Fates interfering in innocent people’s lives.
