Desmond Cusick's Diary

I could have killed Mara tonight. I wanted to. For every patronizing look, for every smug expression, for every righteous smile--all this while she was doing what she did. Who she did.

I could have killed her.

But I didn't.

I didn't, because before me was a broken woman. Someone who had been so violently betrayed by one close to her heart that it had shattered her. Mara Phoenix, whom I have known to never once break down, cried in front of me tonight. No punishment in the world can outdo a broken heart.

Nor can any punishment exceed that which is given by one so broken-hearted. In a way, I almost feel sorry for Muldoon. Were he a human being, I might. I find it amusing that he calls my kind animals when he is much more one than I.

This new alliance lifts my spirits. I can only hope that Navarre's band will follow suit, in time.

I must find a new hat in the morning.

I wonder if Ilse has waited for me as I asked her to? It's late; I wouldn't be surprised if she slipped off. I wonder what she'll say when I tell her the news?

( 'I am at your service in all things, in all ways.' [Mara] )