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Only one other person on the list had a line marked through their name—my first cousin, Quart, who’d been Aunt Taiki and Uncle Palmer’s oldest son. He also had a side note saying he’d been found the same year the family tree claimed he died. Everyone else on the list either had a question mark as their death year or parenthesis around the year they went missing.
Realizing what I was looking at, I ran my finger down the list until I found my own name. Digit trembling, I read the notes that had been written about me.
Quilla Graykey. Born in 302. Disappeared in 310. Sibling of Quesen, child of Preston. Abilities: Compels movement and thought from people and things. Update in 323 – New information confirms she attended the Ladies Academy of Warren somewhere between the years 313 to 319 under a false identity, where she shed her magic and passed it off to Yasmin Mandalay-Donnelly, who would become the Queen of Donnelly in 321. Threat level: low.
Threat level: low? Really? He thought I was a low threat, huh?
I shot the author of that passage an icy glare. Oh, I’d show him just how much of a threat I was.
“Nice kill list,” I sneered.
His gaze zipped up, eyes wide, chest heaving.
I pointed at the printed words as I continued to glower at him. “And oh, look. There’s my name. Right there. Number—what am I—eight, is it?”
He released a slow breath. Though he remained calm, I could see all over his face that his nerves were shot to hell. He’d been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar—or his fist wrapped around a kill list with my name on it—and he knew there was no way to escape the truth. He’d been planning to eliminate his own supposed true love.
Nice.
“It’s not a kill list,” he started quietly.
“Oh, really?” I arched up an eyebrow as if amused, while inside, everything went cold and hard. Sealed tight and shielded away from any pain or feelings. “Then what is it?”
“It’s a list of the remaining Graykeys who—”
“Still need to be eliminated,” I finished, glaring at him for thinking he could pour sugar and pretty words on a pile of shit and try to pass it off as an apple tart. That was bullshit. “In other words, it’s a kill list.”
“Quilla—”
“I’m curious,” I cut in, hating how nice his voice sounded when he said my name. He had no right to speak any words that belonged to me. Not after this. “Did you share this list of remaining Graykeys with your beloved King Ignatius?”
He wrinkled his face with disdain. “Not sure if we can refer to him as my king any longer. I’ve served under three different rulers since leaving High Cliff five years ago.”
“Five years ago, you say? So no one in High Cliff knows about this little update you made about me five years ago, hmm?”
Regret filled his eyes, and something in me that I thought I had guarded tight ached with misery and disappointment.
“I didn’t personally report that to anyone, no,” he answered, “but Queen Yasmin’s announcement that she got her magic from you was very public. I’m sure either of the two children of King Ignatius who were present when she made it reported the information back to him.”
“Right.” My voice was snide and disbelieving. “So you’re saying you have all this information about my family but you aren’t affiliated with the High Cliff warriors who are hunting the last of the Graykeys—the innocent Graykeys who never hurt anyone and just want to live in peace—and killing them. Like—like—” I checked the list to retrieve the two names who’d been marked off and found. “Like Quo and Quart.”
My God. I remembered Quart going fishing with me and Aunt Taiki once. He was quiet and thoughtful and had probably never hurt a soul until the reaping had started. It wasn’t his fault he’d suffered from the bloodlust.
Heartache swelled in my throat.
“I never technically went on a Graykey hunting expedition,” the High Clifter confessed in a low, apologetic voice.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “But you were given the opportunity to, weren’t you?” I pressed.
He refused to look at me. His attention was focused on his hands that he was wringing together between his bent knees. “I was more on the research end of it,” he said. “I discovered the genealogy, names, ages, last known locations. I found what I could about them and learned who was still alive and who wasn’t. But yes, I reported everything back to King Ignatius, until five years ago when I was sent off to Donnelly with the soldiers that accompanied Prince Urban and Princess Allera there.”
“Then why were you still updating your notes after you arrived in Donnelly?” I asked, lifting the book and shaking it. It was a well-known fact Queen Yasmin hadn’t gone evil and exposed her magic until after Prince Urban and Princess—now Queen—Allera had arrived in Donnelly. Ergo, he’d made that note about me after serving a new ruler.
Appearing lost and defeated, my so-called true love gave a helpless, beaten shrug. “I don’t know what to tell you. By that point, it was a habit for me to keep my records up to date. And I won’t lie; I do have a personal, vested interest in finding one Graykey and ending his life. So, yes, I still write down everything I learn about every member because you never know what might turn out to be vital information someday.”
“Let me guess,” I said, examining the page again and focusing on the number one person on his kill list. “Your vendetta’s against Qualmer?” When he shifted uncomfortably without answering, I added, “For killing—what were their names—Emlett and Edgar?”
He visibly winced, but quietly explained, “They were my parents.”
