Stavanger Bay They say that no one dies from love

reverie — she had hardly returned.
and lestan went unbathed, and as the freshets of briny air washed over him, it felt as the breezes withdrew, tainted with the blood of riordan, which had dried to thick maroon over lestan.
as he had, now reverie hung in fever, now she called out.
witch
"i'm here, rev," the mayfair pleaded, twining her into his arms.