She calmed herself, breathing deeply. I want to talk to you, and I must return tomorrow. It was a boy baby cooing in swaddling clothes, a baby who had just been born to the butcher's servant across the alley, the maid Isobella who trailed behind, beaming. ‘It does not matter to me if he comes or no, madame. The Leads. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair.
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