Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. She had made a bed for herself out of wood and furs. “It would have been rash and unwise,” she said at the end of a meditation. He yelled but he had no breath to support his own voice. But Jonathan was not to be deterred.
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