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“Dost trust me, my Christofer?” Kit raised his eyes over the top of his book and met Murchaud’s gaze. “Thy Christofer? Surely not-“ Murchaud braced his boot on the low table between them, turning a black chess knight between his fingers. “Then whose else art thou?” Which gave Kit pause. “The Devil’s. I suppose.” “And not thine own?” Murchaud stood, a movement too fluid to seem as abrupt as it was, and began to pace, revealing to Kit that this was not an idle conversation. “Had I ever that luxury?” Which made Murchaud turn his head and blink softly. “Does any man?” “Or any elf? No.” Kit sighed. “Aye, my Prince. I trust thee as much as I might trust any Elf-Knight.” “Which is to say not at all.” — Elizabeth Bear
Dost trust me, my Christofer?”
Kit raised his eyes over the top of his book and met Murchaud’s gaze. “Thy Christofer? Surely not-“
Murchaud braced his boot on the low table between them, turning a black chess knight between his fingers. “Then whose else art thou?”
Which gave Kit pause. “The Devil’s. I suppose.”
“And not thine own?” Murchaud stood, a movement too fluid to seem as abrupt as it was, and began to pace, revealing to Kit that this was not an idle conversation.
“Had I ever that luxury?” Which made Murchaud turn his head and blink softly. “Does any man?”
“Or any elf? No.” Kit sighed. “Aye, my Prince. I trust thee as much as I might trust any Elf-Knight.”
“Which is to say not at all.