[ Lambert exhales, and his arms tighten around him for a moment, like that small gesture is enough to ward a host of ills off — the Rose Queen, the fae blood in Childermass’s veins, everything else out there. ]
Isn’t pissing the fae off in stupid ways supposed to be my thing, not yours?
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Isn’t pissing the fae off in stupid ways supposed to be my thing, not yours?