When they stopped Samael before our bench, all eyes bored into the ex-sheriff of Nottingshire. Samael didn’t show any sign that their stares bothered him as his gaze held mine. The amsirah who’d escorted him stepped away and retreated to the back of the room.
“You’re charged with carrying out crimes against the amsirah and the realm,” I stated. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Samael’s gaze didn’t waver from mine. “I did what they ordered me to do. Was it right? No, but if I didn’t follow orders, I would have ended up as dead as my father.”
A murmur ran through the room before a man at the far end of the left-hand table shouted, “You enjoyed what you did to us!”
For a second, I thought Samael would deny this accusation, but he didn’t. “I never claimed to be a good man, but I’m not completely evil either. At the end of it all, I did what was right.”
“Only because they killed your father,” Scarlet said. “And certainly not out of the goodness of your heart.”
A muscle twitched in Samael’s cheek. “And what did it take for you to stand up to them?”
Scarlet glowered at him. “I was in this fight from the beginning. I helped Ellery with the robberies.”
“And you did so in secret. You kept yourself protected for as long as possible before then.”
Scarlet leaned back on the bench and folded her arms over her chest. Her lips clamped together in a flat line.
“As I said”—Samael turned to face the rest of the amsirah—“I’m not a good man. I enjoyed my role as the sheriff, but I also lost my father to them, and in the end, I did what was right. I freed Ryker.” He stopped turning when he was facing me again. “Without me, the rebellion most likely would have failed. If Ryker had still been in the duke’s dungeon after Ellery freed the children, then Veni would have gotten to him. He most likely would have killed him or used him as a hostage against the rest of you.”
“That is true,” I agreed.
“I realize my fate is in your hands.” Samael turned to face everyone again. “But you’re working to build Tempest into a better, more honorable realm. Perhaps you should start doing so with me. You may not consider me a friend, but I’m not your enemy either.”
Another murmur ran through the crowd. Those gathered at the tables leaned close to discuss Samael’s words. It took some time and raised voices, but eventually they pulled apart.
“We would like to impose a prison sentence,” a representative of Nottingshire said. “While we agree that we cannot kill a man who helped us win the war, it’s not fair for him to walk free either. Not after everything he did.”
Scowls met these words as the room glowered at Samael. They may have agreed to spare his life, but they’d never accept him.
“How long of a sentence?” I inquired.
They resumed talking with each other before parting again. “One year to be served in jail. After that, he’ll be monitored for another five years. If he resumes his old ways, he will face death.”
It was a far lighter sentence than I’d anticipated; the amsirah were serious about making Tempest a more just realm. We hadn’t fought such an awful war only to hand the realm over to a bloodthirsty group who would only repeat the sins of their ancestors.
I looked at Samael. “How do you feel about that?”
“While I’m not exactly thrilled to be imprisoned, it is a fair sentence.”
Samael had really grown after his father’s death, but like the others, I still didn’t trust him. Hopefully, when he was released, he would prove my distrust wrong.
“Very well then. You’ll start serving your sentence today.” I waved to the amsirah who’d brought him in. “Can you please escort him to the prison?”
The amsirah came forward and stopped next to Samael. He didn’t resist or complain as they led him down the aisle toward the closed doors. Some of the other amsirah opened them, and they slipped outside. The doors shut behind them.
After a few minutes, the double front doors opened again and two gargoyles led Veni in. They each held an arm, and his feet were manacled; he had no chance of escaping.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
Ryker
As they walked him down the aisle, he glowered at me as he passed the other amsirah. If he could have killed me, I’d be dead a thousand times over, but then so would he.
With every shuffling step he took, his chains rattled. His chin remained high and his shoulders back. For a man wearing someone else’s clothes and shackles, he still maintained his dignity. But I’d known he would.
The duke had always been pampered, but he was also arrogant and wouldn’t break. In that one way, we were very much alike.
