“If the camp falls, I will claim you as my husband.” She hesitates again. “It may help some. You must not speak of what you were to him, though. It will be a death sentence.” Her hand has tightened on my arm. “Promise me.”
“Briseis,” I say, “if he is dead, I will not be far behind.”
— Jul 14, 2026 05:24PM
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