Blackfeather Woods I'll stop wearing black when they make a darker colour

An exasperated huff of air left her nostrils. Was she missing something? Was she in the wrong? Why were Euron and Ramsay so all right with this, when it was clear everyone else was not? Furthermore, her eyes narrowed at his implication that she should know better. After all, it was her knowledge--her gut feeling--that had led her to this conclusion in the first place.

"I hate her," Maegi growled, the pent-up anger rising in her chest once more. "She hates us, too. She said so. But why? Why does she hate us? Don't you wonder why?"

There had to be a reason. Potema herself had given Maegi the reason. It was right in front of their noses; how could Ramsay look blindly past it?

Her voice broke off in the beginnings of a sob, and she swallowed it back, blinking the emotions away before continuing. "It's not about us, Ramsay," she whispered. "Not you or me or Euron. It's about her, and Cicero. Whatever happened before we were born." She sighed, her gaze falling to the ground. "I love Cicero. But something isn't right."