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not at heart. I’ve seen men who are, and you
are not.”
“Neither are you,” he said a bit quietly.
The wrong thing to say.
Manon stiffened, her chin lifting. “I am
one hundred seventeen years old,” she said
flatly. “I have spent the majority of that time
killing. Don’t convince yourself that the
events of the past few months have erased
that.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” He doubted
anyone had ever spoken to her that baldly—
relished that he now did, and kept his throat
intact.
She snarled in his face. “You’re a fool if
you believe the fact that I am their queen
wipes away the truth that I have killed scores
of Crochans.”
“That fact will always remain. It’s how you
make it count now that matters.”