Ayesha Farhat

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Smoke looked up at the captain and gestured to me. “Do we really need to keep her?” he asked. “I could practically toss her to shore at this point. She’d fry up crisp like a sausage, and we wouldn’t be ferrying a Navy curse in our hold.” “A delightful thought, Mr. Oakum,” said the captain. “But please take your place on the main.”
Ship of Spells
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