She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. “It is a pity that as nations we are not more friendly. Sebastian dug through the viscous layers of foul-smelling clay with a shovel, each successive insertion creating an obscene sucking noise that ate at her sanity. . ‘Grace à dieu, he breathes still. Then she dropped the curtain and stepped back into the room. But it is the truth. I’ve made no mention of guns and daggers or, indeed, any of the more exciting aspects of the business.
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