Mirrors. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word. Beauty has bloomed and faded. I’m damaged goods. ‘She’s still bleeding. ‘Go on up to the boy, my dear. ‘Pray you, mademoiselle, can you not—’ ‘No use trying to enlist Lucilla’s aid,’ snapped Roding. He would pick a random member of the ever-shifting household for the sake of example.
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