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The door to the room in question was closed. Melusine, starved of colour for years, revelled in it. She hated tricking Shari, whose joy for life was the only thing that made her naive enough to fall for laced iced tea or hot cocoa, depending on the season. They were followed by Jonathan, who carried a stout stick under his arm, and planted himself near the stone. . We’re closer than you think. I overheard them planning your assassination. .
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