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40

The warrior’s brows shot up. “The untamable Master of the Hunt, captured at last by a woman?” Mathin studied him. “You have no desire for children?”

Keilor rubbed his thumb over the rim of his cup. “I accept that I won’t have them.” He could have explained he planned on adopting a child, but the sudden tightness in his throat prevented it. A forceful swallow of mead cleared it enough for him to ask, “What of you? I had always assumed you liked children. Why would you court a human?”

A humorless

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