" "My God!" cried Trenchard, stunned by the intelligence, "I have killed her. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. "Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat. There was no point in rushing into the long walk home. To him she had always appeared as a mere pleasure-loving parasite—something quite insignificant.
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