‘Pardon, mademoiselle, but perhaps your father went to England, after all, and —’ ‘My father went to Italy,’ interrupted Melusine, her heart tightening with the familiar sensation of loss. Spiders came out of their hiding places to commune in windows, industriously spinning their own designs over the stained glass. And, if ever I'm brought to the gallows, I shall lay my death at her door. “Get me someone, Oracle.
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