“Just like old times,” she thought sardonically. I—well, I borrowed Anna’s name. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly. “Until a girl can go away as a son does and earn her independent income, she’s still on a string. And then there came for both of them at least a temporary awakening. The parlour was cluttered but cosy. Look at me.
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