Grabbing the cloak, he winds it around his hand, hauling me toward him. The ties choke me, then rip free. His sword sinks into my side, into my stomach. I look up at him for a moment, eyes wide. He seems as surprised as I feel. Somehow, despite knowing better, part of me still believed he would pull a killing blow. Madoc, who was my father ever since he murdered my father. Madoc, who taught me how to swing a sword to actually hit someone and not just their blade. Madoc, who sat me on his knee and read to me and told me he loved me. I fall to my knees. My legs have collapsed under me. His blade
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