“Whoever it was. From the Forum.”
“No, not particularly.”
She stared at him. “Not particularly?”
“Well, if he dies later on, that’s really not my doing. They’re his feelings,” said Callum, shrugging. “How he chooses to process them is not my responsibility.”
“My god, you’re an absolute psychopath,” said Parisa, sitting fully upright. “You don’t feel any empathy at all, do you?”
“An empath with no empathy,” echoed Callum. “Surely you hear how foolish you sound?”
“You can’t just—”
“And what did you do, hm?” prompted Callum. “You can hear their thoughts, Parisa. You can change them, as you’ve just willingly confessed. By default you are no less interfering, and was your cause any more noble than mine?”
“I don’t destroy people—”
“Don’t you?” Callum asked her. “From what I just saw, Tristan and Rhodes look
severely devolved. They are not who they were before.”
“Devolved,” Parisa said, “is hardly the word I’d use. And it’s certainly not the same as destroyed.”
Callum shifted an inch closer to her on the bed, and she leaned away, repulsed.
“You hate me because we’re the same,” he told her softly. “Haven’t you come to that conclusion yet?”
She bristled, distractingly lovely in her fear. “We are not the same.”
“How are we different?”
“You feel nothing.”
“Whereas you feel sympathy but act regardless. Is that it?”
Parisa opened her mouth, then closed it.
“We are not the same,” she said, “and what’s more, you overestimate yourself.”
“Do I?”
“You think you’re more powerful than I am, don’t you?”
“You have to work much harder to accomplish the same result. If I am not more powerful, I certainly have a more extensive vault from which to draw.”
“The others know better.”
“Do they? Perhaps not.”
He could feel pieces fitting together for her, melting smoothly into place. An effortless joining. Her process of thought was so elegant, so pleasing. It was so satisfying to watch her make decisions, unlike other people. Normal people were so messy and unkempt. Parisa poured out her thoughts like honey, and though Callum couldn’t read them the way she could, he could intuit other things far more clearly.
For example she thought, rather foolishly, that she could win.
“Shall we prove it?” Parisa prompted him. “Maybe you’re right. After all, you clearly think we’re the same, so for all intents in purposes, so must they. Thoughts, feelings, this is all the same to them.” Again they were conspiratorial in their agreement. Even safely out of Callum’s reach, surely Parisa could feel the way they were bound by similar circumstances. “They ought to have a chance to know the truth of what each of us can do.”
“A battle of wits?” Callum replied.
“Of course not,” she said. “Why do battle when we could simply… play a game?”