He thought about the way Kyra had crouched down in front of the amputee, her sidearm in her hand. She had intended to kill the wounded man then and there. To spare him whatever torments their pursuers might have visited on him and to keep him from betraying them. That took a coldness Crispin was not sure he had. That surprised him. He had killed men in Colosso and thought of little save the glory of it, but he was certain that had he been in Kyra’s shoes he could not have done it. The thought would not even have entered his mind. Was he going soft? Or had he always been soft? Always a child
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