Merde! Nikolai winced at the bloody, rocky battle that ensued. “I’m sorry,” he said to the sparrow, as if a statue could feel grief for his shattered friends. Or perhaps Nikolai was saying it for the actual birds who’d died. Or the girl herself. Regardless, he stroked the sparrow’s stone wings. It cooed, then flapped away, as light as if it were made of the breeze. Nikolai returned his gaze to the canals and barges floating by, although he might as well have been seeing the stone bird’s images replaying again and again. Nikolai sagged against the steps and exhaled. The girl still lived. The
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