"What's that to you?" demanded Jonathan, gruffly. But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. They had refused. Hastily ascending these steps, Jack found the door, as he anticipated, locked. With an open hand, he slapped her face. "You will finish your education in the East and return. Shakily, she rose with the sword and drove it through Rhea’s heart.
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