Uriel

Chapter 7

But the Arbiter had her own agenda—and it did not allow for evidence that might lead to an alternative explanation. She brushed his offer aside, charging ahead with her inquisition. "You would lay your sins at this master's feet?"

"No. My sins are my own."

Sam fought back a groan. Braeden was too noble for his own damned good. And he would end up on the executioner's block for all the good it did him.

"Then let us get to the heart of the matter. Do you deny your involvement in the massacre at Tuskar?"

He shook his head slowly. "I cannot."

"And Kabasa?"

He shook his head again.

Sam sagged in her seat. Idiot, idiot man. He'd signed his own death warrant.

"So you confess to your crimes?"

"I cannot."

Sam wasn't the only one who gasped at his response.

The Aribiter pressed her lips into a thin line. "You cannot, or will not?"

"I cannot confess to a crime I don't remember."

"But you were there?" the Aribter pressed. "In Tuskar and then Kabasa, when the massacres occurred?"

Breaden looked thoughtful. "I remember Kabasa. The woman who looked after me was kind. And then I woke up one day and she was dead."

"Because you killed her."

The corner of his mouth lifted sardonically. Only Braeden would find black amusement in an accusation of murder. "I may have," he said. "But I don't remember doing it."

It was a poor defense, and the Aribiter knew it. "A convenient excuse. Fortunately, we have a witness." She clapped her doll-sized hands together. "Nasrin?"

Nasrin rose from the pews and ascended the steps of the altar to stand beside the Arbiter, lounging on the crystal throne. Dread settled into the pit of Sam's belly. She knew what her aunt believed about Braeden—what had she actually seen?

The Arbiter smiled a small, smug smile. "What would you share with us, Sister?"

Nasrin cleared her throat. "He killed my father's men—the general's men. Slit their throats and bellies and bathed in their blood. He separated their heads from their bodies. What was left of them was minced meat. He was covered in their blood, licking his fingers when we found him. I remember that." She shuddered quite convincingly. "He left the corpses in Kabasa in the same state. That was how we knew it was him. We followed the trail of blood right to him. At first he acted like the small, frightened boy he appeared. Either he realized we weren't fooled, or something inside him snapped. I haven't fought so hard for my life before or since. Sister Rosana never fully recovered."

"You believe this man is the same boy you fought with Sister Rosana?" the Arbiter prompted.

"Without question. I would never forget those eyes. He is a monster now as he was then."

Sam looked from Braeden, his mouth bracketed with white lines, to the Arbiter's barely restrained glee. And though it wasn't yet her turn to speak—if she was ever granted the opportunity—Sam could stay silent no longer. "You are so sure, aunt? And here I thought you killed the aliah. Either you lied then, or you lie now. Which is it?"

Nasrin went red, her back stiffening. "I did not lie; I erred. I put my blade through his heart and left him for dead. The wound was mortal, one no human could survive. That was my mistake—thinking of the aliah as human." She glanced at Braeden. "I won't make the same mistake again."