He rolled onto his belly, freeing himself from her hands, pushing her away. The watcher's intake of breath was sibilant. After all, if Valade—or no, what did you say was the villain’s name?’ ‘Gosse,’ Melusine supplied. Even in death, Vorsack was not a man. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent.
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