Julia Gerrior⚓️

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‘Sorry, Mother.’ His golden voice was low and deadly – like the sweetest, purest honey, dripping with venom. ‘I’m afraid you’ve rather … served your purpose.’ Her eyes widened. One frozen instant in which I saw the understanding hit, his voice, his words – one moment of explosive, horrified insight … Then I slit her throat.
Queens of Mist and Madness (Fae Isles, #4)
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