Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. It was a boy baby cooing in swaddling clothes, a baby who had just been born to the butcher's servant across the alley, the maid Isobella who trailed behind, beaming. “I am sure you will marry Nigel sooner or later, and then all your work will be thrown away. Her wings were oddly weak, but for all that she could fly.
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