Then, mysteriously, he no longer smelled or tasted it. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. “I’m not a good woman. ’ ‘Very well, Melusine, you win,’ Gerald said unguardedly, and dug his hand into his pocket. He knew that he could translate literally. She lifted the sheet and gestured for him to join her. “It is Rhea’s infant.
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