As usual the substantive sister—Prudence—did all the talking for the pair; Angelina, the shadow, offered only her submitting nods. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. ’ ‘Don’t be a fool, woman,’ snapped Charvill, thrusting himself further into the room. Panic leapt into his eyes as he brought his wrist up just in time to parry the blade.
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