” Lucy gestured to the rough plywood floor. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. Winifred pointed to the door. You’ll end up dead, that’s what. “A wonderful piece of work,” he declared. ” She nodded. ” She looked up at him, and found he was watching her closely. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. ” He smiled, and she felt love for him in that moment as the smile lit up his ebony eyes, eyes whose blackness seemed unfathomable.
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