He needed to laugh, but only she laughed as he chuckled weakly. Clotilde’s stunning green eyes were reflected in the gazes of the tender young children, but their faces had been hollow and sunken, their hair matted, and their clothing in bad need of repair. Give me the chisel, Blueskin. Too skilled to advertise their presence by a show of arms and men. She felt privileged above other women at parties, where she was on display as all the duchesses and queens looked upon her with envy as he was so clearly entranced by her in every way.
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