It was a simple weave, no bother despite her faint dizziness, and the result let her breathe again. A bit taken with herself, of course, as Daughter-Heir. She could recall every carefully chosen word, written in a tiny hand on paper so thin it was a wonder the pen had not torn through. Especially when he saw where her own dagger had stabbed into the stable wall.
As well that he seemed to like wearing black. That was all there was to the Silver Circuit. skittered, dodging wildly through fear and hate and anger and a dozen more emotions almost too quickly to make out. Some of the sisters think you're Sheriam's puppet, but most believe Romanda or Lelaine tells you where and when to step.
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