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Darcy snorted. Every bit a senseless tuft of fluff as her companion.
What was he doing, showing such considerations to the forgettable daughter of a self-important keeper of an insignificant wyvern?
Morning smelt the same everywhere; fresh, new and hopeful.
She turned her glower on him, potent as wyvern venom. No one, save a dragon, had ever looked at him that way. She was stunning. And a little frightening.
The Order’s books with all their histories and genealogies and territory maps have hardly a practical insight from beginning to end.” “That is because they were written by men, my dear,
But Miss Elizabeth was genuine, everything about her was real, fashionable or not. She would be the same tomorrow as she was yesterday.
She proceeded to the pianoforte for no less than five songs, none of which were fit for dancing. Just as well. Miss Elizabeth was far too intriguing to risk another dance with.
