Mark of Love (Love Mark #3) - Linda Kage Page 0,66
messed it up by separating our mouths and pressing his brow to mine so he could talk some more.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I know my countrymen’s—and my own—philosophy on how to handle the Graykeys is flawed, but you’ve got to admit we can’t just do nothing and let the curse continue. It’d eventually wipe out the entire Outer Realms with the killing sprees and wars it causes. I would’ve thought you’d know more than anyone just how destructive your curse is.”
“Of course I know,” I growled, pressing the hilts of my daggers against his collarbone to shove him away. As soon as he stepped back, I lowered the blades and sheathed them with a huff. “I saw my family tear each other apart. My own mother stabbed my brother to save me, while my father charged her, only for his brother to murder him. I saw my grandfather’s head roll across the floor and my cousins claw out each other’s eyes with their bare hands. I know exactly what the curse does.”
“God.” He winced.
He reached for my arm with his manacled hands, his eyes full of sympathy and hurt. I stepped back, avoiding him.
“But I took steps to make sure I couldn’t add to the damage. I shed my magic, I closed my womb, and you know what? High Cliff warriors still try to track me down to this day. To capture or kill me.”
With a solemn nod, he admitted, “That doesn’t seem fair.”
“No shit,” I muttered. “Because what about Quo and Quart who were killed? Did anyone stop to ask if they were willing to go through the same measures that I did to help stop the spread and avoid execution?”
“I doubt it.”
His honesty kept startling me. I would’ve thought a guy trying to get into a woman’s good graces wouldn’t be so quick to confess something he knew would piss her off. But then, a part of me appreciated his bold, ugly truth. He would never lie to me, would he?
Dammit. That didn’t matter. I pushed my palms against his chest. He backed another step away, letting me have the small distance, but I only used it to get back into his face and be the aggressor.
“So, what?” I charged. “It’s just easier to kill before we could do anything wrong than ask us a simple question first?”
“No,” he murmured and shook his head. “It probably had more to do with the fact that no one else even considered the idea.”
“How in God’s name could you not consider something so logical and right?”
With a shrug, he said, “Ignorance. Fear. Revenge. A lot of High Clifters lost family members because of the aftereffects of a reaping. Hell, I doubt I’d be the sole survivor to House Moast right now if it weren’t for the Graykeys.” His eyes went sad and pained as he searched my face. “It’s hard to look past pain and hurt and anger sometimes and just calm down enough to realize you’re not putting a stop to something with your extreme reaction; you’re only making it worse.”
“Oh, so you’re having a sudden change of heart?” People didn’t change their opinions that easily, and if they did, how could they be considered in any way dependable.
“I don’t know about a complete change of heart,” he told me with a wince. “Something’s still got to be done about the curse, but there could be some better, smarter ways to go about it. I like the idea of trying to compromise and talk it out first.” Then he lifted a finger. “Except when it comes to Qualmer Graykey. I’m sorry if you’re close to him, but if I ever cross paths with him—”
“Then you’ll have to wait in line behind me to kill him,” I said.
Qualmer and I had never gotten on, not even when he wasn’t consumed by bloodlust. He’d been a bully who’d tormented me, killed every pet I ever had, called me awful names, and even tried to molest me once before Melaina had discovered us and saved my virtue.
Across the camp, the High Clifter frowned at me in confusion.
“I also have a score to settle with that specific Graykey,” I reported, lifting my chin a notch higher. “Qualmer killed my mother too.”
Chapter 15
Quilla
Indigo hadn’t been lying. Graykeys really had murdered most of his family.
And don’t ask me when I’d started thinking of him as Indigo. The more I’d read his journal, the more he’d become Indigo.