Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. He had mentioned teaching her how to read Latin one day when she had wandered into the library. "Drink this, then," roared Blueskin. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. After knocking for some time at the door without effect, he tried the latch, and to his surprise found it open.
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