Nade

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Cardan is standing by the bed. When he turns, he looks so astonished that I almost laugh. I have seldom seen him unsure of himself, even when drunk, even when wounded; it is rare to see him overset. A wild heat leaps into his eyes, an expression not unlike fear. I feel a rush of power, heady as wine. Now this is a game I don’t mind playing.
The Queen of Nothing (The Folk of the Air #3)
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