She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. ‘I assure you it was mutual. ‘You will keep yourself utterly quiet,’ he instructed, a growl in her ear as they headed for the door. Blueskin goes with me. Before midnight, your nephew shall be safe beneath the hatches of the Zeeslang.
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