Like a shark scenting blood, Vesryn lunged, propelled by eliciting a reaction. “Did you get a new tattoo?” He swiped at Jassyn’s curls, peering at his forehead, before Jassyn could react and swat his hand away. If he had any choice in the matter, Jassyn would have refused to wear the inked sigils of his four contract holders like he was some prized cattle. And, of course, “Lady” Farine felt the need to brand his head for the world to see. No wonder she produced an offspring as detestable as General Elashor. “Ah, Lady Farine finally laid a claim on you.” Vesryn swept his eyes over Jassyn with
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