Lucy blushed from toes to forehead, feeling her pace accelerate. The babies that the woman—your wife—refused to stop creating. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge. Her heartbeat quickened. Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically.
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