Page 137 of Grim and Oro
Does he think I won’t do it? Or does he actually want it?
“The treaty would be null,” I scrape out. And I need to find out what he’s planning. If he’s already set something in motion, his death won’t stop it.
He smirks. “Sure. That’s the reason. Not because you’re too much of a coward to do anything for yourself.”
The flames grow. “That’s rich coming from someone who followed every single one of his father’s orders.”
He stares for a second. Two. “I never said I wasn’t a coward.” His face projects the full extent of his disgust. “I’m not the one standing in front of a prisoner, truly believing that we’re so different. In a very probable alternate reality, our roles could easily be reversed.”
My jaw works. He’s wrong. We’re nothing alike.Nothing.
“Why do you hate me?”
His curiosity sounds genuine. I laugh without humor, the flames in my hands dying. I won’t give him what he wants.
“Truly,” he continues. “Think about it. Is it because of something I did? Or because someone told you to?”
I bare my teeth at him. “I hate you because you’re a monster who killed thousands of soldiers. I hate you because you are heartless and cruel. I hate you because your father—your fatherkilled my mother.”Killed both my parents.
We are not our fathers, I remind myself. But everything Grimshaw’s done makes me think he may as well be.
I don’t know what I’m expecting him to say, but it isn’t—
“I’m sorry.”
Worse, I don’t expect him to mean it. I can taste that he does.Truth. It almost makes me angrier. I don’t want his apology. I don’t want his pity.I want my mother back.
“Be grateful you had one at all,” he remarks.
“You clearly had a mother.” My words are bitter.
“Yes, but I didn’t know her.”
Good, I think. The dark, twisted part of me that has been fed by rage is glad he has suffered. That he did not experience the love I did.
I want to rub it in. I want to keep trying to hurt him.
But I remember why I’m here. I need to gain his trust.
A moment passes in silence. Then I venture to ask, “What happened to her?”
His answer is immediate. Cold. “My father had her killed.”
I open my mouth. Close it. Am I so surprised? Is it not in line with everything I’ve learned about that family? About Cronan, the original Nightshade?
He studies me with dark amusement. “You see ... I have no love for my father. We have that in common, you and I.”
I want to spit,You don’t know me, monster.
Then I remember. Nightshades can have mental abilities. Grimshaw likely has a flair. Does he read minds? If so, he’s known my purpose from the moment I walked in. He’d know about my flair and how to avoid it. I need to proceed carefully.
“Why would you say that?” I ask, waiting to determine whether his answer is a lie.
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Because you’ve mentioned your mother several times, and your father none.”
My eyes narrow. He appears to be telling the truth, but would I know if he was withholding? I can’t be sure.
“It’s all right,” he says, his voice mocking. “I bet he hated you back.”
