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I’d rather listen to them describe in intricate detail the ways they’d torture Glendower to death than hear Ezra tell me he loved me again.
Either this was a reward for my good behavior, or they were worried about me. A petty part of me hoped it was the latter, even if my heart rebelled at the idea of upsetting them. They upset me first.
I hadn’t survived all those years and two prisons by letting my heart decide for me, though.