Vantrann's hands might be bloodless, but the strings he'd cast had snared misguided birds. Foreknowledge could be debated, but that called for an honesty she believed Vantrann lacked.
She slid bare feet over the edge of the bed, crossed the room, and reached for the folded tribal robe Alva had placed on a chair. Dressing, a tremor shook her--from a cold that entered through more than the floor.
She had taught Vantrann. Whatever his crimes, they were no less her own.
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