"'Sdeath! do you trifle with me, sirrah?" cried Rowland fiercely. " The Wastrel rushed. To win the contest meant you would be chosen to apprentice in magic as a priest under her tutelage. It was a sovereign easily earned. “I have given it up,” she answered. ‘Have no fear,’ he uttered soothingly, reaching out to pat her free hand. He did make her perceive something of the acute, tormenting desire for her that had arisen in him and possessed him. "But, though the storm has spared him, I will not. ’ ‘Of course I am, imbecile,’ she snapped, unconsciously echoing her greatniece.
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