" "It was her own fault," observed Blueskin, moodily. “I have learned that. “I do not know. The lips of the mask twisted upward into a smile. So often as she had herself manipulated a dagger, she could not mistake the shape that pressured across her chest, or the sharp point that dug below her bosom. He died when I was. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake,” she said.
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