‘But it … it’s an alf sword.’ What in the world was I arguing for – for them to abruptly realise they had made a colossal mistake and yank the weapon from my hands again? And yet my lips refused to stop moving, unable to trust, unable to fall and let the net catch me. ‘And I’m not an alf. So—' Tared quirked up an eyebrow. ‘Aren't you?’ Oh. One of us.
