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Faris turned on him. “Why choose to wear black today, of all days? I know why I’m in black. Why are you? Mourning?He looked startled. “One does not wear mourning for a servant.”You still don’t understand, do you? He was not my servant.”He regarded her anger, aghast. “What then? What else could he be?Her empty hands shook as she held them out to him. Her voice shook as she replied, “Glove to my hand.” Slowly she closed her fists. “Everything.
