"You mustn't talk any more; the excitement isn't good for you. ” “Then, whoever he may be, he is not Meysey Hill,” Courtlaw said. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. ’ ‘You say—what?’ gasped Melusine. Shakily, she rose with the sword and drove it through Rhea’s heart.
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