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She could forgive the girl who had needed a captain of the guard to offer stability after a year in hell;
Strange, that feeling of belonging.
“I haven’t played since before Nehemia died,” she admitted, the words too heavy. “We can come back another day, if you want.” A gentle, steady offer. His silver hair glimmered in the dim candlelight. “There might not be another day. And—and I would consider my life very sad indeed if I never played again.”
He studied the warehouse door. “I wouldn’t put it past Lorcan to return the favor you dealt him tonight. He forgets and forgives even less easily than you do. Especially when someone threatens to cut off his manhood.” “At least I said it would be a big mistake,” she said with a fiendish grin. “I was tempted to say ‘little.’ ” Rowan laughed, his eyes dancing. “Then you definitely would have been dead.”