(I’m furious with the guards that they’ve treated my Beloved this way, but I have to remind myself that they didn’t know. Still, I can’t help brush my hands over her cheeks, taking away her tears, running my hand through her silky hair. She’s by the far the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen in my entire years of existence. I break the shackles apart with one hand. There’s a small cut on her wrist and I want to heal her, but I don’t want to scare her.) “Beloved, are you okay?”
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