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Summary
This time, Dunk leans low to knock his skull against loose teeth. The pain makes Aerion yelp and quiet, like a dog being kicked for the first time. The pulse under Duncan’s thumb kicks, hard. “If he dies,” Dunk promises, “I will have your head for his honour.”
A tight nod. Appeasement. Good. “You’ve made your— your point. Unhand me,” Aerion says again, almost a plea.
“I could have killed you,” Dunk says. Should have. “You will sleep tonight in debt.”