“She had never felt so empty as when he disappeared beneath her fingertips. There was a prickling under his skin and merely a brush of feathers before the pressure of his embrace vanished. She opened her eyes to the harsh reality of the dim, dank dungeon and freed the swan from his black-cloth prison. Elisa sat before her, back in the scrawny body of mousy Rampion, her head in her hands as she silently wept. Laid out on the ground before her was the last shirt, the seventh, incomplete. They had ...managed one sleeve, but not the other. Tears fell from Friday’s own eyes to join Elisa’s on the muddy ground. Friday cradled the swan in her lap, smoothing its feathers with one hand and holding Elisa with the other. The Infidel reappeared out of the darkness, as if summoned from thin air, and opened the cell door. Friday stuffed the shirts into the sack while he bound Elisa’s wrists again and marched her out of the dungeon. Friday followed close behind, clutching the swan to her breast. When they reached the outer doors, Friday released Tristan to join his brothers in the tower.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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