Wood. The sharp point of the sword at the girl’s throat bit sideways. \"I'm sixteen, I'm a junior like you. And my word's law—with you, at least," she added, bestowing a cutting glance upon her husband. But how close? She glanced about at the shrouded furnishings for possible cover. After all, he had the means of setting this tormenting doubt at rest. This "fatal retreat for the unfortunate brave" was marked by a low wooden railing, within which stood the triple tree.
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