So close to the midpoint!
“Did you know he once swore to kill a Queen, if we ever came across one again?” Treon asked.
Mercy didn’t say anything. She felt a sudden chill, and her hands tightened on the edge of the table in front of her. Odd, how real it felt, the metal digging into the palms of her hands.
“From a Killer," he continued, "such a vow is particularly binding. I can’t think of any one of them who, after committing to such a thing, would have taken the time to think it through and not kill you at the instant of your meeting. In fact, as you say, he rescued you. And when I suggested seducing you, as a way of coercing your connection to us as a people, for a moment I thought he might kill me.”
Mercy stared at Treon.
“You suggested what?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
But he ignored her, continuing on in an aggrieved tone, as though she hadn’t interrupted him.
“Do you know he hasn’t looked at me like that since I was six years old, and he was eight?” Treon looked away from her for the first time, his gaze distant. “He used to practice his Talent on me, until our mother realized what was happening, and told him one didn’t stalk family, or plan out how best to murder them.”