“It’s none of your business.” Emrys left his shattered bowl on the hearthstones and hobbled over, anger dancing in those bright, clever eyes. “It’s my business when you come into my kitchen.” “I’ve been through worse,” she said. Luca said, “What do you mean?” He eyed her mangled hands, her black eye, and the ring of scars around her neck, courtesy of Baba Yellowlegs. She silently invited him to do the calculations: a life in Adarlan with Fae blood, a life in Adarlan as a woman … His face paled. After a long moment, Emrys said, “Leave it alone, Luca,” and stooped to pick up the fragments of the
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