" "Have you told her?" "Told her? Told her what?" Spurlock sat straight in his chair. We are alone and we can say and do what we please. He glanced at the ruins of his High Priestess. Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom. She sat very still, and his eyes rested on that ornament for a moment, and then travelled slowly to her wrist and the soft lines of her forearm. He thrust the smaller weapon into a scabbard that hung from his belt.
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