And he was a king. She couldn't, Marin breathed. A twist to Liandrin's words said she would never do the same. Babe lying in the snow.
Marin's shriek hounded her. His leg hurt, but he barely felt it as he hurried purposefully down the stairs and out of the inn. He had discarded three quarters of what he had heard as nonsense and rumors growing into fables, but he took some of those conclusions back, now. Ingtar peered into the unlit fireplace, frowning.
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