Page 142 of The Sins of Silas

Lena had said the same words to me. Did they have any idea of the things I had done? They couldn’t possibly be that daft, could they?

But Torrin continued anyway. “You have always had a good heart, Silas. Even though you have strayed in the past, I always knew you’d do the right thing when the time came.”

Before I could protest, Torrin stood, wincing as he did so. His brown eyes slid down to me. “Perhaps the day is not far off. The day we can return to Otacia…the day you finally become the King you are meant to be.”

My eyebrows raised at his forgiving words, and my mouth parted to release a sigh. Torrin offered me a small smile before limping away toward his cousins, Elowen and Merrick.

Why did they think so highly of me after all I had done?

What waswrongwith them?

I had tortured hundreds of their kind, men and women alike.

I had never killed a child, at least. But I’d bring them home, my father imprisoning them until they’d become of age, only to hang them like their family. I only visited those cellars a handful of times, and surprisingly, the children were kept well-fed and clean, given books to read, and presented with hobbies to discover.

There was no point, though. They were to die as adults anyway.

We only had it happen once so far, as the rest of the imprisoned children were still underage. We captured a boy four years ago. He was seventeen at the time. My father said twenty-one was a good age to put them down.

He was hung right before I left for Ames.

I shut off all emotions after what happened to me six months after Lena left…something I couldn't even thinkabout without breaking into a sweat and panicking. I could kill and torture with a straight face as those I was harming begged and pleaded, if not for their own lives, for those they loved that I killed in front of them.

I’d do that, then go home and drink and smoke and fuck, not caring in the slightest that I had committed such atrocities.

But now it was like everything was weighing on me—like my humanity had been lost and was somehow finding its way back.

I hated it. I wanted to go back to not feeling a damn thing.

“Excuse me?” a small voice asked, breaking me from my thoughts.

I shifted my stare over to find a child standing by me. I didn’t know if they were a boy or girl, as all the slaves’ heads had been shaved. Growing in were tight blonde curls.

My eyebrows raised, and I peered around to see if their parents were nearby. But no one was. No one even had their eyes on the kid.

“Um…how can I help you?”

The child’s big blue eyes studied me, clutching a kitten ragdoll. On their little wrists were my father’s device. It made my stomach turn.

“I’m Saoirse. I’m four.”

My chest felt like it was going to cave in, seeing this child enslaved in such filth.

My son would be this age if he had lived.

My son.

“Hi, Saoirse. I’m Silas. I’m twenty-three,” I responded softly.

She smiled and plopped herself down right next to me. My eyes nervously darted around, but still, no one was looking at the little girl. The only eyes that were on us were Lena’s, who watched us with a curious gaze.

“Everyone's saying you’re a prince,” she said matter-of-factly with her little voice.

I pulled my lips to the side, nodding slowly. “That I am.”

“Are you here to save us?” she whispered, clutching her doll closer. “I don’t like being here. These hurt.” She gestured to the cuffs. “And I want to go home.”

I examined the device as she held out her wrist. The device had been configured to someone else’s fingerprints. I couldn't get it to budge.

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