Do it right now. She clutched the torn cloth of her bodice to her heavy breasts. The dead would wait. It might be kinder to let them kill us in our sleep.
They dressed her in the wisps that Magister Illyrio had sent up, and then the gown, a deep plum silk to bring out the violet in her eyes. He did not growl. He thought he could hear the sadness now, but nothing more than that. Wyl cursed as they pulled him off his dying horse, swords slashing in the rain.
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