Närcyssa lifted up a corner of the fabric of the parcel, and her eyes darkened with recognition. Her eyes snapped towards mine and she sneered, “I do not accept; I will not be indebted to you.”
I slid the bundle back closer to me and slowly unwrapped it. “I am not giving this to you, Närcyssa Deathsong,” I countered, not meeting her eyes. “I am giving this to my sister of twelve years age whose viol was tossed into the firepit.”
I met her gaze then and saw the suspicion in her stare. “Now take it; my debt is repaid.”
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