When she awoke, she felt sick, her mouth still salty with blood. Sometimes she missed her cue and nodded affirmatively when the gesture should have been the reverse; and Prudence would send her a sharp glance of disapproval. Her stomach growled, and she clutched at it in reaction, haphazardly observing that the gown had been changed to silk. Come. Why should they be? She and Ramage were friends, very good friends. It was Blueskin.
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