Bradley McCurley

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I jerked my eyes away from them, as if my gaze might somehow make her aware of me. Over the next few minutes, I stole glimpses of her. She wore the rubies my father had given her, the ones she had once sold to gain coin to ease the suffering of the people of Buck. Her graying hair was garlanded with late flowers, a custom as outdated as the gown she wore, but to me her eccentricity was endearing and precious. I wished I could go to her, and kneel by her chair and thank her for all she had done for me, not only during my life, but when she had supposed me dead.
Golden Fool (Tawny Man, #2)
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