“What do you think you are doing?” He asked. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off. He groaned, much to Melusine’s relief. ’ Kimble frowned direfully, staring at the weapon with its gold hilt and decorative pattern down the blade. The Magdalene.
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