Sated, he rolled off her body and retired to his quarters. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke. ” “You can’t be killed?” He asked. She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed. ’ ‘And me,’ came the guttural response, ‘I will certainly murder you the very next time I am compelled to see your face.
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