The World Of The Dead Wonʹt Give

Christian Stretched Out Beside Her And Pulled Her Close. ʺbut For What Itʹs Worth, I Think Youʹd Be A Great Queen Too, Princess Dragomir.ʺ ʺyouʹre Going To Get Dirty,ʺ She Warned. ʺalready Am. Oh, You Mean From Your Clothes?ʺ He Wrapped His Arms Around Her, Heedless Of Her Damp And Muddy State. ʺi Spent Most Of My Childhood Hiding In A Dusty Attic And Own Exactly One Dress Shirt. You Really Think I Care About This T-shirt?ʺ

He Shrugged. "the Same As Any Other. It's A Way To Make People Feel Better About Themselves. Everyone Likes Feeling Special. Being Part Of An Elite Group Is A Way To Do That." "but You Weren't Part Of It?" "no Need. I Already Know I'm Special.

Oh,” She Said. “you Can Rest Assured That I Will Kill Him. Mostly This Is To Emphasize What I Said Before: No More Time To Lounge Around And Decide With No Consequences. For Every Moment You Waste Deliberating Today, The Oak King Will Be In The Hands Of My Torturers, Experiencing The Most Excruciating Pain. Your Delay Extends That Agony.” “oh, Irony,” Murmured Dorian.

How Do You Know It Was The Blighted Pile? Did You Recognize Maiwenn’s Gift?” “no, But There Was A Marble Bust Of Dorian In There, Which I Figured Must Have Been His Kingdom’s ‘humble’ Gift.

It Was Worth It. You Looked... Happy.