“Twenty-two. Thankfully, he seemed pleased the moment he saw her face, which her mother had made her wash for weeks with the pulp of apples, orange water, and 21 extract of borage among other things. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. There’s always friction, conflict, unwilling concessions. I don't know whose brainless head it may be, but it'll do for my collection. Nuns, I mean. The lady murmured briefly to her husband, and then tucked her hand into Alderley’s arm. It filled his thoughts for the rest of the day, and became an obsession.
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