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Summary
Narinder looked at them, furious.
“I raised you better than this,” he hissed.
“The only way you raised me was from the dead.” Lambert grabbed Narinder's hand and used it to guide him. “Breathe in, breathe out. And gently.”
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Narinder drinks a love potion. Three days later, he's cured, but the aftertaste of the recent events is haunting him enough to reconsider his relationship with the Lamb. An old curse and Fate that have followed him for millennia aren't making it any easier.
