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She could have sworn he was smiling.
So she left Rowan in the hall. But it did not stop her from wishing she could keep him.
No one saw those musicians or their conductor again.
“I claim you, Rowan Whitethorn. I don’t care what you say and how much you protest. I claim you as my friend.”
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“One thought from me, and your city will burn.” “It is stone,” Maeve snapped.