3. ’ Melusine’s eyes flashed. “These clothes are French, and I’m sure this floppy bow would make a Frenchman of me anyhow. I will neither stir hand nor foot for you more. So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. I somehow understood. A piece of seaweed touched her hand, tender and green. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy.
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