Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. She could feel his breath on her skin, every hair on her arms and neck raised in response. Her heart swelled to suffocation. "Whatever you say—you, behind those stars there, if you are a God. You see, the horse it does not belong to me, nor to the nuns.
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