E. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. Marina had retired to bed, drinking wine slowly, sleeping when she was not drinking. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. It suited him to dampen the spirits of any who sought to impose upon him, as these relics of the loathed family of Valade seemed like to do.
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