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He’d sacrificed enough for Turah. For me. If Zavier—Dray—lived, then it was time for his life to be his own.
There should have been a monster’s lifeless body in the courtyard. There should have been a winged beast with my sword in its chest. Instead, I’d pulled my sword from this woman’s body. A woman with red hair, the spiraling curls a mix of orange and strawberry and copper. Odessa’s hair.
“Where are you going?” Cathlin called. I kept walking. “To find my wife.”

