Kitt looks startlingly hopeful at her words. “You don’t think I’m a monster?” “I don’t think you know what a monster is yet.” “Maybe not.” He then inches closer to Death (in more ways than one), his eyes flicking over her. “Because you certainly don’t look like one.” “What is it I look like?” “A trap.” Kitt smiles—genuine and boyish. The way only an Azer knows how. “But I don’t think that is what you are. Not really.” Death’s voice is steady despite her anticipation. “Go on.” “I think you are a beautiful being forced to do ugly things.” The king looks suddenly serious. “You’re not
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