Abby Rowland

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"Dani," Cass said when I got to my feet. He spread his wing with a wince, the effort it took to move that much obvious from the strain on his face. "Take one of my feathers with you. They'll surely have bound Vaduin, too." I set my fingers on the cool metal of his wing. "Your feathers don't grow back." "Friends don't rise from the grave," he said in return.
Caught in the Basilisk's Gaze (Monsters of Faery, #4)
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