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Why spare him, Jeren? You said yourself hes insane. Give me a reason! Its a matter of honour, Indarin, said Lara, her tone sharp. Cant you see that? Indarin gazed down the length at her, his face entirely calm.Your instincts are good, and your reflexes well honed. Hes been teaching you? There was no denying her beauty, terrible though it might be. Her black hair snaked down her back, strands coiling out to blend with the darkness she carried around her. Her slender figure was lithe and strong, sensuously curved. And her nails slid out of her fingertips like assassins blades. The substance in question is being employed as a sort of gastronomic cement: a khaki-coloured glue that adheres the vibrant hunks of yellow tomato and silvery radish to the piece of slate in front of her. The waiter had told her it was calledpistounade and formed part of the fifth course, of the nine-serving taster menu. Shed laughed: a fulsome, pleasing cackle that had caused at least two other diners to tut out loud. As simple as possible is best with Ariah. Be as you are, and speak plainly. The truth, Jeren. That is the key. She shared the same smile. Yeah, because you know about fashion— She drew in a long breath, until she couldnt put it off anymore. I dont want to go back to River Holt, or face my brother, but I dont see how I can avoid it. Gilliad won’t stop, Indarin. He won’t ever stop. He stretches, elongating his hands. Emits a simian screech as the wounds threaten to open like flowers. Max frowned.Nobody said anything about a call coming in from you. Who did you talk to? Glad though she was that the Ariah, Indarin and a number of the warriors and seers had agreed to come with them—for a time at least—it embarrassed her to see the lack of organisation at the heart of her own people. She was gazing in dismay at Vertigern arguing about where the pavilion should be set up, when Fethan appeared at her side. Right, just get it over with, mutters Rowan, sliding off the gloves, teeth bared, trying not to squeal as the new skin tugs against the old wounds. He blows on the exposed fingers, turning the livid pink skin this way and that in the cold air. He spares a moments thought for the prick who did it. The internet troll who called himself @h8crimez is on remand in a wing of Hull Prison, awaiting trial. So far, nobody has hurt him, though all Rowan has to do it give the word. He knows a couple of the wardens and half a dozen of the inmates and it wouldnt take more than a phonecall for @h8crimez to get a mug of boiling sugar-water poured slowly over every millimetre of his sensitive parts. Rowan doesnt know why he’s holding back. He’s hate to think it were some sense of empathy: some whiff of compassion for wannabe who got in over his head and ended up with a terrible choiceto make. It had snapped Samara awake. And so the obsession had begun. Can you remember anything about it? Fear clamped around her racing heart, stilling it once more. Steel scraped against stone. Not common steel, but lighter, sharper—Feyna steel. Preference on model?.