She felt that she was not alone. Capes was an exceptionally fair man of two or three-and-thirty, so ruddily blond that it was a mercy he had escaped light eyelashes, and with a minor but by no means contemptible reputation of his own. "It's a miserable weakness to be afraid of bloodshed. ” He ducked out. That night, she hunted the alleyways of the old town. If you do not find your aunt, my people will take you under wing until you can stand on your own.
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