You owe what I have done for you, to him, not to me. ” He referred to a sheet of paper by his side. She lifted her shoulders in an eloquent shrug. She cried out with the pain of it. You know you do, Annabel. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. My nerves are shaken. And you need not fear that I shall not give back the sword when I have finished using it.
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