‘And you …’ He wavered for a moment, in spite of his visible determination to pull himself together to at least a semblance of his usual composure. ‘And you’re saying you actually … like him.’ ‘I’m saying I love him to pieces,’ I pleasantly corrected. ‘Gods help me,’ he muttered, burying his face in his hands. ‘Because you’ve seen what he looks like?’ I scoffed. ‘No. Because he’s the only damn person in this world who’s never tried to make me more than I can be or less than I am. Because he makes me laugh when I’m frightened. Because he knows what it’s like to be everyone’s weapon. Because he
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