“The fire's out.”
Deoir turned to
the deep, growling voice; her white eyes bright in the dim, candlelit
room. He was right, she'd continued working, headless of the cold in
the room setting in with the dead hearth. “No matter.”
Felix
looked around the room, his masked eyes grazing over her notes. They
were written in an cryptic shorthand of her own design. “I suppose
our base is no matter to attend to now that you've evacuated your
research.”
“On the contrary,” Deoir replied coolly. “I
fully intend to be at hand during the invasion.”
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