The prince did not smile, but his expression softened slightly. God Is My Refuge Psalm 91 “The Arch-Rike taught it to Tyrus. Tyrus taught it to me. We are a mastermind. All of us. Some who use the word consider a single person. A force behind a single idea.” He shook his head gravely. “They sadly misunderstand. The formation of Kenatos was a mastermind. The congregation of thieves in Havenrook is a mastermind. When individuals choose to align themselves for a common goal—that is a mastermind. Before you were born, Bhikhu, Tyrus led a mastermind into the Scourgelands to defeat the Plague. We are preparing now to go back and finish what was started. We…”
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You have all been summoned to join this great mastermind,” God Is My Refuge Psalm 91 Prince Aran continued. “Those in Kenatos would call it a conspiracy. But I say to you that it is a rebellion against death. When Tyrus came to me, he was bleeding and nearly dead—defeated from his last attempt. I swore on the honor of my house that I would be ready to join him the second time. I was too young back then. I have been training since that day to join the cause and usher in an era where the Plague cannot kiss another child with death. You are here for this purpose. Tyrus chose you. All of you. Yes, even you, Kiranrao. You are all needed in this task. We may fail. We may die. But he is coming to tell us his plan. He is coming to explain his purpose. Come back to this place at dawn. Then, your questions will all be answered.
Prince Aransetis rose. Khiara rose as well, her eyes still adoring. He nodded to them again, each in turn, and left the spacious room. Khiara followed, speaking softly to him, and then returned. “Rooms are in the hall outside, one for each of you. There are mats to sleep on in the corner. Rest yourselves, for you are weary. There is a chamber for bathing beyond. We will join you in the morning.”
What is My Refuge Psalm 91?
She left, sliding the door shut behind her. Kiranrao stood slowly, exhaling. God Is My Refuge Psalm 91 “I nearly killed him.” Paedrin snorted, earning a withering stare himself. “Not likely. I have never been in the presence of a Chin-Na master before. Until tonight.” “I am not afraid of a Bhikhu,” Kiranrao said contemptuously.
“He is not a Bhikhu,” Paedrin replied. “Chin-Na is different. A Vaettir floats and flies. One who practices Chin-Na is heavy. They become part of the earth and its energy. Hitting one is like hitting a boulder. They are fast and strong. One punch can stop a man from breathing. They can kill by robbing one’s breath.” Hettie gazed at him intently. “I thought the Vaettir do not kill.” “I think this one does,” Paedrin replied ominously. Hettie could not sleep. The mat was terribly uncomfortable and the lingering smell of the incense was alien and unfamiliar. Everything about the room and structure was different than what she was used to. It was a different culture. It was a different lifestyle. It was the closest thing to feeling safe she had ever experienced in her life.
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In the wilds beyond Silvandom, the Romani were everywhere. But here, in this kingdom, they were unwelcome. That meant she did not have to worry that someone would slip monkshood into her food and murder her. For the first time in her life, she began to experience the possibility that she might actually free herself from her Romani bondage. God Is My Refuge Psalm 91 Not through paying an outlandish bribe. But by living in a place where the Romani were not welcome. If she aided her uncle in his quest, if she truly joined the mastermind, would she gain the privilege of living in Silvandom?
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