Anyway, this is Karl Alexander von Wultendorf; Karl, my daughter Charlotte, who, as I'm sure you're tired of hearing, is utterly invaluable to me. He's untrustworthy, he attacked his own friend. And—sorry and all that. Some women have to look after themselves, but there's no need to do it if you don't have to.
Thank God I was. You don't want me? There was a keen, sweet menace in the intruder's voice. But I didn't want to be favoured—not if it meant they hated me for it! How can I explain? It He took a breath; the air felt raw, and thirst went through him like streams of sand.
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