You understand me, Charcoal. Tears began to stream from her cheeks. She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone. “But your hair,” he gasped. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. "A little, Sir," replied the executioner, with a grim smile. Hilary made a movement as if he would seize the opportunity to disarm the girl, but Gerald stopped him.
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