“Where am I?” he muttered. He turned just in time to see Lucilla exchange an amused look with Hilary. So often as she had herself manipulated a dagger, she could not mistake the shape that pressured across her chest, or the sharp point that dug below her bosom. The babies that the woman—your wife—refused to stop creating. You owe what I have done for you, to him, not to me. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot.
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