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“Because it is easier to fear the unknown than to try and understand it. And unfortunately, the loudest voices often belong to the most fearful.”
“It’s not about a poem or taxes or even magic.” Tadhg blew out a frustrated breath. “It’s about being born different in a world that sees no value in diversity. It’s about living under a regime that desires ultimate power over its citizens, one that is willing to murder anyone they believe could be a threat.” He turned to me and touched a finger to my tangled hair. In a quiet voice laced with sadness, he said, “It’s about people with fear so ingrained that they won’t even sit in a field at dusk to look up at the stars because they believe the darkness is reserved for monsters.”
“Someone’s in a mood this morning,” he muttered. “I’m not the one in a mood.” I grabbed another slice of cold toast and slathered on a thick layer of butter and jam. “Then why are you rage-spreading the butter?” “Because I like butter.”
Forgiveness wasn’t a commodity to be bought and paid for. Forgiveness was a matter of the heart. A matter of choosing love over hate. Forgiveness was a release. Forgiveness was freedom.
“I—Shit.” He licked his lips and winced. “I don’t—” He swore again and dashed his hands through his hair, tugging on the ends. Then his hands dropped. Green eyes met mine. Tadhg took a deep breath and said, “I do. I love you.”
