“Does anybody know what I am?” I hadn’t really directed the question at one of them in particular, and so none of them answered me, at first. “You’re perfect,” Aros told me. “Ours.” Coen’s voice was low. Exhausted. “You’re ours.” How long had they spent trying to kill Cyrus? Hopefully it wasn’t the whole time I had been unresponsive. “Stubborn,” Yael added. “You’re also really fucking stubborn.” “You’re never allowed out of our sight again.” Rome seemed to be half-asleep when he answered, his voice a sleepy grunt. Heard that before. “You’re Willa-damned-Knight,” Siret told me, his familiar
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