‘Coward,’ she threw at him, brandishing the sword. She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. And he had destroyed all this. It’s my choice, Lucy. Do you know much of his background?’ ‘Only that he is, or was, related to the Vicomte de Valade.
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