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“Beside Ruby, the Darkling lay in his black kefta. Who had tended him? I wondered, feeling an ache rise in my throat. Who had combed his dark hair back so neatly from his forehead? Who had folded his graceful hands on his chest?” — Leigh Bardugo
Beside Ruby, the Darkling lay in his black kefta. Who had tended him? I wondered, feeling an ache rise in my throat. Who had combed his dark hair back so neatly from his forehead? Who had folded his graceful hands on his chest?