Blind Warrior (The Weavers Circle #3) - Jocelynn Drake Page 0,81

difference to us. We’ve fought your kind plenty of times while you’ve been injured. We know not to underestimate you,” John murmured. He fell silent for a second. “But I am sorry for the loss of your sight. That is unfortunate.”

And the truly insane part was that Grey actually believed him. He sounded genuinely saddened that Grey had suffered such an injury. He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want John to sound so reasonable and sane. None of the others had been reasonable, and Ardette had definitely not been sane.

“You said we hadn’t chatted in a long time. We’ve spoken before?” Grey asked, wanting to talk about something other than his blindness. He ran the fingers of his left hand across the smooth metal surface of the table. It was cool to the touch, likely from sitting in a shaded area for most of the morning. He could no longer feel the sun on him, and he was beginning to regret not walking directly to the car.

“Yes, we had many long talks in your last life. Unfortunately, things didn’t work out so well for either of us that time. Certainly not as planned, but that’s not here nor there.”

It was hard to concentrate on John’s words as the memory of Clay’s thoughts bounded through his head. Grey had been positive that he hadn’t been a traitor to the Circle, but if he’d had many talks with this pestilent, didn’t that mean he’d been plotting with the man? He still refused to believe it. Maybe he had been acting as a spy or a double agent. There had to be another reason.

“What do you want?”

“I want to come to a solution that will help both our peoples,” John said. “My world is dying. My people are dying. It’s only natural that we reached out in search of a solution. When this was started so many centuries ago, I’ll admit that we didn’t care about your people. We wanted only to save our own skin.”

Grey snorted. “And you don’t now?”

“Well, we do, but cooler heads have come to see the error of our ways. We want to call a truce. Our leaders are trying to find a way to strike a balance so that your world can help save ours without being destroyed in the process. Wouldn’t it be better if we both lived?”

Grey’s heart raced, and it was everything he could do to remain seated when he simply wanted to run from that table. It wasn’t that John was threatening him or spouting insane ideas. It was the fact that he wasn’t. He sounded incredibly logical and sensible. Grey wanted to believe him. Wanted to do exactly what he said so that he and his new family could go on to live long, happy lives. He was whispering the most delicious temptation, and Grey wanted to do exactly as he asked.

“A truce? Then why did you attack at the beach?”

John huffed a near-silent laugh. “Yes, that did get a tad bit out of hand. Sorry.” That apology was a little less convincing than the sympathy he’d expressed over loss of vision. “Seems we found your lost member about the same time as you. My thoughts had been to simply detain him as a way of getting you to converse with me.”

“There are other ways of gaining an audience with the Circle,” Grey said tightly.

“True, but probably not as expedient.” John sighed. “But no harm was done. He looks well enough.”

“And the attack on our house?”

“That, I’m afraid, was ordered before I could put a stop to it. I swear, all attacks have been put on hold until we’ve had a chance to talk.”

Grey wasn’t sure whether he believed that or not. “A truce? What does working together even look like? How do we both survive?”

“My people are still hammering out the details, but for now it would largely be a live and let live policy. You don’t kill any of my people you might run across, and we stop killing humans and Weavers. That sounds like a fair trade, right?”

Grey shook his head. “I can’t make that call for the Circle. I need to talk to the rest of them.” Placing his left hand flat on the table, Grey pushed to his feet. Behind him, he could feel Calder shift, giving him room to maneuver.

“Quite understandable. I’m sure that Earth Weaver wants to growl about it some. I’m assuming he’s in charge once again. Always was a bossy one.