“Perhaps you are disloyal to the crown, and that is why you do not wish to give a guard a measly apple.” He stared lazily.
I rolled my eyes and feigned boredom. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not. Though I’m sure you’ll find another reason to haul me away, just as you do the others.” I threw my hands out in front of me, taunting him to take me to the prison with the others who’d been falsely accused.
Benton blew out an amplified breath.
My antics would make us late to the market, but toying with the guard was exhilarating and worth every lost minute. With our inventory selling out nearly every day, we had time to spare.
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Miss,” the female guard interrupted. “We’re looking for members of the resistance. Do you know where we might find them? Names? Addresses? Nothingis insignificant. And we will keep your information confidential.”
Her questions poured out as if she were reciting a script and had simply been waiting for her cue. She was there for business, while Hunt was there to denigrate as many people as possible along the way, children included.
I dropped my hands and rolled my eyes away from Hunt, setting them on the inquisitive female guard. I shook my head. “If you want to meet your quota today, you’re going to need to look elsewhere. Even if I knew where to find them, I wouldn’t tell you.”
It didn’t matter that I hated the resistance just as much as she did—our reasons were vastly different. But I wasn’t about to sing like a canary, regardless of the reward they might have given.
“And you, sir.” Without skipping a beat, she turned to Benton, whose dark skin paled. "Do you have any information that might lead us to capture the rogue fae?”
Benton shook his head and stood in silence, face reeking with lies. Hopefully, she would interpret his expression as nerves because he’d likely crack if questioned further.
“Well, I hope we didn’t disappoint you too much,” I interjected, attempting to redirect her attention to me. “Though some disappointment is good for the soul.” My eyes darted to Hunt. “If you have one, that is.”
“The Crown appreciates your cooperation in its efforts. If you come across any information, whether confirmed knowledge or rumor, contact the guards at the castle gates and they will assist you.” The woman spoke the lines as if she’d been rehearsing them since she’d departed her mother’s womb. “The resistance is a threat to Kingdom Rivale and will not be tolerated. Members will be located and imprisoned, each will be given a fair trial, overseen by King Sutton himself.”
“Fair, as if that’s possible,” I mumbled.
“What did you say?” Hunt resounded behind me and stepped around, closing the distance between us.
I smiled affectionately. “I think what your friend meant to say was that the only thing afforded to suspected members of the resistance is a public execution.”
“We’re lucky to have such a gracious king. He provides us with the opportunity to see the face of those who betrayed the crown,” Hunt defended. “Not only before, but after decapitation as well.”
“Lucky us,” I snarled.
Benton cleared his throat once more and approached my side, nudging my hand with his own, a silent plea to quit the one-sided banter.
I contemplated asking Hunt if he’d ever taken part in the public executions. When the rope released and the blade dropped onto the necks of the innocent, had he been the one to do it? Or was it the female guard? Was she heartless enough to end someone’s life without considering the effect on the person’s family?
I assessed her physique. She was far too small given the information I’d gathered about my brother’s murderer, which wasn’t much. Though it was unlikely a lowly street guard would’ve held such an important position, I wouldn't rule out the idea that they were hiding in plain sight. I also knew Kamden's executioner was burly and likely a male.
Unfortunately, the killer's identity remained a mystery. Executioners, too cowardly to face their victims, hid under a face covering when completing the task, leaving me few clues. Hunt looked past my friend and me, eyeing my cart full of produce, tongue running over his cracked bottom lip. I wished for nothing more than to further split that lip with my fist.
Abruptly, he walked to my cart. The guard placed his half-eaten apple on top of the pile, tainting the others with his saliva still lingering on the assaulted fruit.
Selecting a fresh apple, he turned it leisurely, inspecting each curve and angle. He extended his arm, fruit still in hand, and looked at me. A sly grin made its way across his face as he let the newly chosen victim drop onto the ground. Plunk.
My face heated, anger forcing the blood to rush through my veins and direct my heart to thump wildly. I blew out a measured breath, trying to calm my nerves as the man selected another apple, eyed it, and dropped it theatrically to the ground. Plunk. Three more apples. Plunk. Plunk. Plunk.
The street went quiet—wide-eyed fae stopped to watch the interaction. A young boy clung to his mother, digging his tiny fingers into her leg. Others in the crowd snarled in disgust.
Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. At least a dozen apples lay bruised and damaged in the street; their only remaining life would be for stewing. I ran my hands up the sides of my face and blew out a long breath, letting my cheeks puff.
There wasn’t much I could do—nothing, really. If I protested, it would only encourage Hunt to continue the razing. He could make an even bigger mess, possibly damage my cart. Maybe even destroy Benton’s goods.
“Ah, here’s the one I was looking for,” Hunt said approvingly, picking up the bright-red apple identical to the ones lying discarded on the ground.
Benton wrapped a finger around my pinky, the gesture cooling my anger by only a fraction.
Hunt took a large bite of the fruit, chewed several times and spat out the small scraps. “Your apples are shit.” Plunk. The scorned fruit fell to the ground, resting sadly near the other wounded.
