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Just as I was leaving for Ulbhild’s training, an unexpected guest showed up.
“Speak of the devil.”
“What?”
Barclava stood there with a scowl.
“Nothing.”
I had cursed at him last night, wondering what the hell he was up to—did he really have to show up at the crack of dawn? Was this bastard spying on me?
“Then again, he doesn’t have the skills for that.”
“You have a real talent for making your muttering sound insulting.”
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