by Frost Kay
Hazel’s shoulders hunched up by her ears at Sara’s commanding voice. What did they plan on doing to her? She kept her eyes locked on Jameson’s, and his lips twisted in distaste.
“I do not,” he said loudly for the crowd. In a much lower voice, he murmured, “Next time you think of touching my wings, remember this moment. I’ve shown you mercy when most would not have.”
He launched from his crouch into the air. Her heart pounded in her chest as he looped in a circle and dropped onto one of the two empty poles above, an air of authority settling over him. Slowly, Hazel dropped her gaze to her lap, her dress now wrinkled. Bitterness filled her as tears pricked the back of her eyes. They were going to execute her.
Don’t take this lying down.
Hazel blinked back the tears of bitterness and helplessness. If she was going to die, she’d do it with her head held high.
Never let it be said that Hazel Bresh was a coward.
Six
Hazel
Hazel wiggled onto her knees and bowed her head.
Please give me the strength to face what’s ahead.
She swallowed hard and forced herself to disappear into the numb place she reserved for times when others were particularly cruel. Over the years, she’d learned bullies wanted a reaction, and when they didn’t get what they wanted, they usually retreated. They sought to hurt others and fed off of the emotions.
Her enemies would get nothing from her today.
Climbing to her feet was not an easy task without the use of her hands, but she managed it. Hundreds of sets of eyes scrutinized her, and she had to will herself not to drop her own gaze. Instead, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. If they want to look, let them look.
“John Zatich,” Clint’s voice rang out over the crowd. “You have been accused and found guilty of abusing your wife and children. You have been sentenced to exile.”
Exile? Hope unfurled in her chest and she squashed it. They wouldn’t exile her.
A frail-looking woman holding two little girls at the front of the crowd began to sob. Hazel peeked under her lashes to the weasel-looking man at the end of her line to the right—face turning purple in rage, his elongated nose wrinkled, whiskers twitching.
Hazel swallowed back her distaste. He looked like a rat. She hated rats.
“Exile?” he spat. “You can’t exile me.”
“We can,” Clint said calmly. “You’ve been given multiple chances and yet you still betray your family over and over with your rage. We will not tolerate that behavior. You’re lucky you’re receiving exile. I’d gladly rip your head from your shoulders.”
Hazel shivered at the menace in his tone. The lizard meant every word.
Two of the avians from above dropped from the perches and approached the prisoner John. Hazel stumbled when the man started to fight, jerking the chain around. She watched impassively as he was unlocked from the line and dragged before Sara and Clint.
“I never touched her. She’ll vouch for me.” He desperately looked at his wife.
“You’re formally stripped of your citizenship and your wife is considered a widow,” Sara said, ignoring his pleas. The woman in the crowd began to wail, the sound so heartsick that it caused chills to run down Hazel’s arms. Sara plucked a backpack from the stage and tossed it at John. “Be gone, and may you find redemption.”
The man screamed when the two avians each grabbed an arm and launched into the air. Hazel’s belly lurched as they disappeared over the bluff, John’s screams growing fainter. The woman collapsed onto the ground, and a man with sharp features picked her up and disappeared into the crowd, her little girls trailing behind.
What kind of place was this? In Harbor, violence was never tolerated, but there was a trial. Who made the decisions here? Was he really guilty?
The next prisoner was a woman with jet-black hair sprinkled with what looked like crow feathers. She wept quietly as they read her offenses, her pinched features as sharp as glass.
“For your thievery, you must work off your debts to those who you’ve stolen from in addition to your own work,” Sara said firmly. “Be gone and make peace with those you’ve hurt.”
The woman nodded as another avian unlocked her wrists. Shoulders slumped, she scurried over to the burly man with furred ears who waited at the bottom of the stairs. She tucked her chin to her chest and waited. He uncrossed his arms and placed a gentle hand on her arm to lead her away.
Hazel scanned the people and paused when a man wearing sunglasses with spiky hair smirked at her and licked his lips. She blankly stared back, even though her skin crawled. Hazel moved on, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes scouring her body. Disgusting.
Time passed in a blur as Sara and Clint worked their way through the prisoners. Another was exiled, one sentenced to lashing, one sent to work in the mines, but the ones that chilled her blood the most suffered the unthinkable. Two prisoners were sold.
Hazel had managed to keep her mask in place the entire time, despite the punishments and staring. But when the bidding began, she felt all the blood from her face drain. Sara had once told her they didn’t dabble in slavery and yet here was proof that they did. She stared at the wood beneath her feet, stained with blood. These people were liars.
Her pulse picked up as the last of the prisoners were led off the dais. Needles seemed to prick her skin as all attention focused on her. Her fingers curled into fists and slowly, she lifted her chin. She wouldn’t cower.
“Hazel of the Untouched—” she flinched, but otherwise didn’t react “—is accused of theft, violence against those who have helped her, and shedding the blood of the Blooded.” Gasps and boos erupted from the crowd. “We find her guilty.”
Now was her chance. She’d been preparing for this since the beginning of the sentences. “By what trial?” Hazel exclaimed, proud her voice didn’t waver. “I’ve stood before no one and confessed. How can you condemn me?”
“You’re not a citizen. You do not get the privileges of the others,” Sara replied.
“And yet I’m being tried as one?” Hazel dared to retort. She turned as fully as she could toward the ruling couple, clashing gazes with the Spanish beauty. “You lay crimes at my feet that I’ve not committed. I’ve stolen nothing that wasn’t offered. I’ve hurt no one out of malice or greed. I’ve only sought to protect myself from those who have made themselves into my enemies.” She inhaled deeply to fortify herself for her next words. “It is you who should stand here. Your people stole me from my home, drugged me, and then imprisoned me.” She rattled her chains. “I’ve no wish to be here. Exile me.”
Clint placed a hand on his wife’s tight shoulder. “Matt,” he called. Hazel turned her attention to her former best friend as he stepped from the front of the crowd. “She’s of your people. Will you speak for her exile?”
“No, I will not,” he said simply. “You know how I came to be here. They will shun her and hunt us. It’s too dangerous. She will not survive.”
What was left of her heart crumbled into a thousand pieces. Why wouldn’t he take her back to her family?
“You traitor,” she whispered.
Matt turned his attention toward her, his eyes sad. “I’m protecting you. You’ll see one day.”
Hazel swallowed hard and fought back the pain and sorrow. She’d truly lost her friend. “Rot in hell.”
He dismissed her. “I’ll bid for her. She’ll be well taken care of while she works off her debts.”
“She needs a firmer hand than what you can provide,” a male commented from the crowd.
Disdain filled her at the man with the spiky hair. He lifted his sunglasses and rested them on the top of his head. Hazel sucked in a sharp breath when she got a good look at his eyes. They were completely black—no white, no pupil, no nothing. What kind of monster was he?
“I’ll bid for her,” the creepy man offered. “When her assignment is done, you won’t even recognize the docile creature I’ll bring bac
k to you.”
Hazel smiled at the man, more a baring of teeth. He would try.
“I’ll bid for her,” a familiar voice called from the back.
She closed her eyes for a moment before opening them and searching for Doc. Hazel spotted him at the back of the crowd, his ears twitching.
“I’ve had formal healing training,” she offered, glancing at Sara. “I would be of good use to you with the doctor.”
“You’d let her have access to drugs? She’s already attacked our people. How could we trust her to help heal us?” the creepy dude sneered. “Not to mention, she’s already bested Doc. Do you really think he’s capable of taking care of such a willful slave? A few weeks on the farm will humble her.”
“You won’t break her spirit, Marco,” Matt warned. “I offer more time outside the fence for her. Hazel and I have grown up together. I know how to handle her.”
She inhaled sharply, but kept her mouth firmly shut. Hazel hated Matt, but he was better than the disturbing Marco fellow. If she was to be sold, at least it was to the devil she knew.
“Doc’s bid is out of the question,” Sara interrupted. “Matt and Marco both have merit. Is there anyone else who will bid for her?”
A whooshing filled Hazel’s ears, and a breeze ruffled her hair. She didn’t dare turn as feet touched down behind her, the stage groaning. The hair along her arms rose, and the entire crowd’s attention focused on the newest arrival. She stoically stared ahead, already knowing who lurked behind her.
The monster.
Heat suffused her back, and Hazel blanched as a huge hand curled around her throat from behind. His claws skittered across her tender skin.
“She’s mine. The Untouched shed my blood. I deserve retribution,” his deep voice slid over her skin, and Hazel swallowed carefully as terror soured her belly. “My claim is strongest.”
Marco scowled, but dipped his chin in begrudging acknowledgement. Hazel’s gaze turned to Matt and for the first time, he met her gaze. Even as angry as she was at him, she pleaded with her eyes for him to fight.
He flicked a look up above her head. “I will withdraw my claim.”
Her blood froze when Matt stepped back. He’d abandoned her. Completely. Numbness settled over her.
“Do you understand that you are responsible for her health, sanity, and actions as she works for you?” Clint asked.
“I do,” the monster replied. His thumb brushed along her rapid pulse.
“She won’t be easy,” his father warned.
With gentle pressure, the monster tipped her chin back. She stared up at him, letting all her loathing for him slide onto her face.
“I don’t doubt it,” he rumbled, a small dangerous smile flirting around his lips.
“You’ll regret this,” she said softly. Hazel was a slave to no one.
His dark eyes deepened, and a claw skittered along the line of her jaw. “We’ll see.”
Seven
Noah
Hazel’s pulse picked up speed beneath his palm, the acrid scent of fear pouring from her skin. Noah’s upper lips curled, and something possessive rumbled in his chest.
Get a hold of yourself.
He choked down the biological responses the terrified woman in his arms brought out in him and released her. She wavered, but stood tall and proud, staring down anyone who made eye contact.
Noah caught Jameson’s eye. His friend dropped from his perch and landed on Hazel’s right. She didn’t startle or flinch when Noah handed her over to his friend. He frowned when one lone tear slipped down her cheek while she stepped closer to Jameson and farther away from him. It drove him crazy the way she made him feel. He loved Jameson like a brother, but watching him touch the girl…
He bit back a curse and stormed over to his parents. The Untouched was a criminal just like the other prisoners that had been punished.
Yeah, keep on telling yourself that.
He stooped low and kissed his mama on both cheeks. “Mama.”
“Mi hijo,” she said, her deep voice soothing. “Are you sure you want to take her into your care?”
“An indentured is a huge commitment. One I’m not sure you’re ready for,” his father piped in, crossing his yellow and black scaled arms.
“The Untouched is my responsibility.” He glanced toward Marco, his upper lip curling slightly. “I may not like her, but I refuse to let her go into Marco’s employ.”
“There’s been no evidence of foul play,” his mother said softly, for his ears only.
“One of these days, he’ll slip up,” Noah muttered. The man was slippery as an eel. Marco had committed more crimes than he had toes, but there wasn’t ever any proof. Damn him. He turned back to his parents. “It’s only a matter of time.”
“What do you plan on doing with her?” his papa asked, his dark eyes twinkling. “She’s pretty, in a plain way.”
The Untouched was odd, hell, even unnatural. He’d seen all sorts of humans roam the earth—scaled, feathered, furred, whiskered, tails, fangs, snouts, you name it—but he’d never seen someone with smooth golden skin. It repulsed him, and yet—in the darker depraved part of his soul—he liked it, craved it even. Saliva pooled in his mouth just thinking about tasting her skin.
Noah swallowed hard and glared at the bluff above his mother’s head. There was something seriously wrong with him. “Abuelita needs help on her plot of land. The Untouched will be a good helper for her.”
“You plan on leaving her with your abuelita?” his mama asked incredulously.
His father laughed. “Don’t worry, my love. I pity the girl, not your mother. If there’s anyone who can handle the girl, it will be her. She’s an old dragon.”
Noah’s mother scowled and slapped his father on the arm before peering around Noah. “I don’t know. The girl has spirit.”
He rolled his eyes. “She’ll roll over at the first sign of abuelita’s wrath.”
“Don’t be so sure,” his mama cautioned. “Just because a person doesn’t scream and fight at every turn, doesn’t make them weak. It takes strength to compromise and make the best of a situation. Mark my words, mi hijo, maybe she’s not a spitfire like Remy, but you’ll find her as unmovable as the bluff if you push her too far.”
He glanced over his shoulder to catch the girl looking in his direction. Her deep-blue eyes stood out in her pale face, and her faded floral dress danced in the breeze, turning her into an ethereal-like creature. She was so foreign, so alien, and yet… when her mask cracked the tiniest bit and her upper lip curled at the sight of him, something like satisfaction slithered through him. He’d never liked pushovers, and he kind of hoped she’d give him a hard time. It had been a long time since Noah had had a challenge like the Untouched girl.
“And a word of advice,” his papa coughed, and Noah faced him once more. His father waved a hand through the air as if to dispel a foul odor. “If you plan on seducing the girl, you might want to rethink your tactics.”
Noah stiffened. Damn pheromones. His mama flashed his papa a cross look before focusing back on him and placing a delicate bronze hand against his own warm skin.
“What your father means to say is that you need to be careful. She’s Untouched. The chances of her survival if you were to mate—”
“There’s no chance of that,” he said gruffly. “She’s the enemy and nothing more. Just because my body wants her, doesn’t mean my mind does. I’m not weak.” Offense colored his tone. What did his mama take him for, a boy in the throes of puberty?
“That’s not what I meant, mi hijo. I don’t think you’re weak.” She smiled and the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes deepened. “But I’ve been through the calling, and I know how it affects a person. You might not intend for things to progress, but accidents can happen. Until this passes, don’t spend time just the two of you. It’s dangerous for you and for the girl.”
“Si, Mama,” he answered. He knew she was right, but it still rankled him to have her chastise him so.
“I’ll keep my distance.”
His father slapped him on the shoulder. “That’s settled, then. Are you taking her to Abuela’s house now?”
“Yes.”
“And have you told your abuela that she’s getting a new slave?”
Noah winced. “Not yet.”
His father laughed, the sound booming and altogether devious. “Good luck with that, Son.”
He smirked. “Only if it was you. She loves me.”
“As she should,” his mama piped in. “Now, take Hazel to her new home. She looks like she’s about to make a break for it.”
Eight
Hazel
The shackles on her wrists chafed, and she pressed closer to Jameson, despite how he’d treated her earlier. She side-eyed his feathery wings and then her bloody fingernails but didn’t feel one flicker of remorse. He deserved what he got. The feeling of someone watching her crawled over the back of her neck, and Hazel shivered. Tension between her and the monster that had purchased her seemed to spice the air.
Purchased.
Hazel’s teeth gnashed together at the thought. He’d purchased her like livestock. Slavery.
She cast a look of revulsion over her shoulder, hating how he walked behind them. It felt like he was stalking her—hunting, even. Before he could catch her look, she whipped around and stared straight ahead. He may have bought her, but she would be the most useless slave he’d ever owned. In three days, she’d be gone. The monster wouldn’t be able to keep tabs on her all the time. Sooner or later, escape would be possible. No one was perfect.
Her chains rattled as they strode through town, the noise seeming to catch the attention of every person within a hundred feet. Hazel bit the inside of her cheek and kept her expression placid when she noticed that they were traveling on what she guessed was the busiest street. Her new owner wanted to show off his spoils.
The thought alone made her sick.