AYASHA'S POV
I stared at him, trying to understand what game he was playing. The key to my left shackle sat in his other hand, just out of reach. My right hand was free but still I couldn't bring myself to finish what I'd started. To wrap my fingers around his throat and squeeze until the life left his eyes.
"You tell me," I said finally. "You seem to think you know everything about me."
"Only you know that, Ayasha." His voice was quiet in the darkness of the cell. "But if I have to guess, you know war happens. No one asks for it. But it does. It is the way of life. The strong devour the weak."
I wanted to laugh at his words. Or scream. Maybe both.
"As a daughter of Whitewater, you understand it," he continued. "So you do hate me for what my father and my people did to you and your people. But you also understand it. Like I said, pure empathy."
"That sounds like a disorder," I said.
