You bent to pick up the crow-shaped cuff. At once, black smoke swirled, a crow’s caw split the air—then he appeared. Tall, pale, with dark hair and eyes sharp as obsidian. “You don’t look rich. Or powerful,” he sneered. “You look like you can’t afford a crust of bread. I’m not serving you.” But the cuff burned against your ear, sealing the bond. Bound together—whether either of you liked it or not.
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