Soldiers saluted as I passed them in the hallway. “Sheriff,” they called respectfully.
I kept my eyes straight ahead and didn’t bother acknowledging them. That was what Father had always done, and what I intended to do as well, though our reasons were not the same. Father had ignored the men-at-arms because he considered himself above them. I kept my distance because there was only a short amount of time before I betrayed them all, and the less I knew about them, the easier it would be.
I had no reservations about betraying someone like Dominic. Men like him chose cruelty and called it loyalty. But others, like Sebastian, would be far more difficult. There were good soldiers here, genuinely good men who laughed with each other over meals, sent wages home to their wives and children, and believed they were serving the rightful authority. They were simply on the wrong side of the battle. I couldn’t go to them and ask them to help me bring down their leader. My position was already precarious enough.
I opened the door to my private room, then locked it. For a moment, I pressed my forehead against the heavy wood and closed my eyes. The air inside was cool and still, and for one brief instant, I let myself imagine that I might have a few hours to catch up on the infernal reports overflowing from my desk before the captains arrived.
A soft sound came from the corner. I whirled around, my hand already moving toward my sword, and saw a cloaked figure near the wall.
Laurel.
Relief hit first, foolish and immediate. Ever since my platoon had arrived, she had avoided visiting me in my quarters as often, well aware that she could be recognized. And even though I knew it was dangerous, I was always glad to see her. “You shouldn’t be here. Anyone could recognize you,” I said, reaching for her witha tired smile, but Laurel backed away and held up one hand to stop me.
I stopped.
There was something wrong about the way she was looking at me. The look in her eyes was hard and angry, but beneath the anger was something that looked far too much like pain.
“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Did you do it?” Laurel’s voice was choked.
“Do what?”
“My friend Walter.” Her voice shook on his name. “His hand is missing fingers. Did you do that?”
For a moment, I couldn’t answer.
I had spent years trying to forget that day. I had tried to forget my father watching along with the other officers to see whether I would hesitate. I remembered being young and desperate to prove I deserved the authority I had been given.
I swallowed. I couldn’t lie to her. “Yes.”
Laurel closed her eyes as if the single word had struck her. When she opened them again, there was something like disgust in her expression. “Was that the only time? Or were there others?”
I wanted to say it was the only time. I wanted to tell her it had been an accident, that I had misunderstood an order, that I had done one terrible thing and then become better at once. I wanted to find any version of the truth that would let her keep looking at me the way she was doing. But the truth was uglier than that.
“He wasn’t the only one,” I said.
Laurel shook her head, slow and horrified. “How could you?”
The shame that had always been heavy in my chest twisted into something more acute. I had known this day might come. I had known Laurel would hate hearing about my former life, but some stupid part of me had thought she would remember whoI was now before condemning who I had been. “You have to understand, that was before.”
“Before what?” she demanded. “Before you decided torturing people wasn’t for you? Before you had some blissful epiphany and saw the light?”
The venom in her voice took me aback. “You aren’t being objective,” I told her. If Laurel would look at this logically, she would realize the past was not as simple as she wanted it to be. She knew what it meant to hurt people because the mission required it. “You’ve injured people during your missions too. You don’t hear me berating you for that, do you?”
“Self-defense is different from intentional mutilation,” she nearly shouted.
I shushed her at once and glanced toward the door, anxious about the guards outside hearing her voice. The gesture only made her expression harden further, and I cursed myself for it. Laurel was angry, hurt, and impatient, and I was treating her like a problem to contain instead of the woman whose trust I had just shattered. It was late, I was exhausted, andnowwas the time Laurel chose to pick a fight?
Still, I pushed on, desperate for her to see it from my point of view. “Self-defense? Should I tell that to the families of the men you killed when we were springing your father from prison? It seems like you shot first and asked questionsneverin their cases. A few fingers look pretty good in comparison to that, don’t you think? You don’t understand what it is like. Not all of us can flip our hair and bat our eyes when we want someone to do what we want.” The moment the words left my mouth, I wanted to retract them.
Laurel recoiled as if I had slapped her.
“I didn’t hear you complain when it wasyourneck I was saving,” she shot back. “Sometimes I had to take a life, but I never torture people just for the fun of it.”
“Idon’ttorture people just for the fun of it.” My voice rose despite every attempt to keep it low. “Didn’t you say you would forgive me my past if I forgave you yours? Were you lying when you said that?”
Her face changed. For a moment, something wounded appeared in her expression, then she shoved past me and stormed toward the door.
