’ ‘But me, I am not very good with accepting,’ Melusine said bitterly over her shoulder. ’ Martha looked up, belligerence in her tone. Melusine opened her eyes at him. “Do something!” But he laid by his prey, half-watching the fight, gorging on the woman he had caught that had been meant for Rhea and her child. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching.
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