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I tell him, taking a step back and indicating a chair with the point. “Go ahead. Sit.” He sits down just as I kick the chair, sending it backward and him sprawling to the floor. He rolls over, glaring at me with indignation. “Unchivalrous,” is all he says, but there’s something in his face that wasn’t there before. Fear.
The Wicked King (The Folk of the Air, #2)
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