If I choose to make o’ my heart a bleeding fucking sponge, then, by all the dead, Isern-i-Phail, that,” and she spat the word like a curse, “is how it will be!” There was a long silence, then. Just the gulls calling, and the sea rolling in, and the faint pulse of angry blood in Rikke’s head. The smile started as a crinkle at the corners of Isern’s eyes, then it spread to her mouth, to her cheeks, till it was right across her face. “Finally! I’d a worry you’d never get there.” Rikke closed her eyes. “So that was a bloody lesson, too, was it?” “Aye, a little bit.” Isern grinned as she offered
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