The same pale white buttocks, the same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never been able to erase. She had killed him. She was the High Priestess. " "I'll never understand. ” “You must admit,” he declared, “that to us—who had seen you—the thought of your trying anything else was amazing. ’ Melusine shrugged. " "I'm no reader of riddles," said Jonathan.
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