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“And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright. ” “There was no need for such heroism,” Annabel said coldly. "You'd have hit it off better if you'd called her The Sow. Probably a sick man's whim. 8 or 1. ‘Naturally I had to come,’ confirmed the lively blonde, her eyes twinkling up at Alderley.
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