She slunk meekly across to the chair and sat in it, painfully aware that this room—with two other women in it—was the closest she was likely to get to safety in this house... even if one of the women was unconscious, and the other one dressed like a man.
Robert loved his master with the sort of selfless devotion that would keep him glued to Rotherdam’s side through war, and peace, and through painful phantasms of the mind.
“If discussion of dead sheep is off the table, perhaps discussion of syphilis should be as well,” Frederick suggested. “Good lord, Edmund—and you accuse me of a lack of tact.”
😂😂 fucks same, man
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