“I don’t understand.” Sinclair looked like a man about to shake his watch to find out why it wasn’t keeping time. “The Collar controls the Betrayer.” James heard another awful, breathless laugh escape him. He bent down and picked up Ettore’s sword. He could feel the truth of the answer, in his teeth, in his blood, in his bones. “It does,” said James. He could feel the craving he had to serve, to give himself over. But the stories were lies. Or else they were the grubby dreams of those who wished to enslave him. It didn’t matter who put the Collar around his neck. The Collar had only ever had
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