That, Sir, is what I call being a Good Samaritan. ‘Why don’t you?’ Melusine frowned at him, grasping the dagger more firmly. The bridge was open. She felt her chest trying to float up, but the blessed undertow, the dreaded reason why she was warned to never bathe in the ocean, sucked her feet down, putting the decision where it belonged, into the hands of God. That is my way, my dear. . He thrust the smaller weapon into a scabbard that hung from his belt.
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