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“I think I’ll call you Plum,”
“I’m from Clarriseau,” as if that explained it. “Ah, well, I’ve journeyed all over, but have not made it out to that little isle, thank the gods.” His wider grin revealed a charming set of impressively straight teeth. She understood—she would be relieved to not be her parent as well.
often meant Sid fell into random slumbers, but Reeve wondered if those were just times when it was most convenient for the sword to forget he had consciousness.
“Release me, foul witch!” “I’m not a witch!” The room darkened as noxscura rose from every crevice, plumes of shadows pressing in, and the man’s face blanched under the horrid eclipse. “Oh, stop that,” she hissed,
His fingers tightened around his sword’s hilt, and the coldness did not run away from his face. “There is nothing to say, witch.” As if he knew just how much it hurt her, he repeated the word with a gut-wrenching twist that made tears spring to her eyes.
Maybe it didn’t matter how things felt, it only mattered how things were.
“Fine, I guess I’ll kill her first,” he moaned,
Reeve had a very strong constitution and could probably survive a little poisoning.
Need. Reeve’s hold on the jar tightened. He was needed, here, to do this, by her. And no one ever needed Reeve Dawn.
As it crept toward her, Reeve had the momentary desire to protect her from it. That was natural, of course, noxscura was evil, and she was…well, she was something.

