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. She sat for
a time on the wagon's bench, alone with her thoughts, then
finally made her way back to Ciri's cottage. Like all the
others, this building was in ruins. The roof was gone, and
two of the walls had fallen into a jumble of broken stone.
Trevarre had risen and was in the process of adjusting
the straps of his ornate armor. He looked up in surprise.
"Matya. I did not hear you open the door."
Matya bit her tongue to keep from telling him there
WAS no door.
"Have you seen Ciri this morning?" he asked. He ran a
hand through his lank brown hair.
"I saw her out in the village," Matya said, afraid to say
more.
"Is something wrong, Matya?" Trevarre asked her,
frowning.
Matya's hand crept to the leather purse. She could have
everything she had ever wanted, if she just gave Trevarre
the doll. He would take it. She knew he would. As unlikely
as Trevarre looked on the outside, the heart that beat in his
chest was a knight's, true and pure. He would break the
enchantment, and Ciri would be free. She had sworn her
oath by Nuitari - a vow no sorcerer could break. Matya
would be rich beyond her dreams. It would be the greatest
bargain Matya had ever struck.
Her hand reached into the pouch, brushing the smooth
porcelain. "I wanted to tell you . . ." She swallowed and
started over. "I just wanted to tell you, Trevarre . . "
"Go on," he said in his resonant voice, his pale eyes
regarding her seriously.
Matya saw kindness in his gaze, and, for one brief
moment, she almost imagined she saw something more -
admiration, affection
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