The proa bore away to the northwest out of which it had come. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. “Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. “I’m so glad you’re here, Peter,” she said. He glanced down between the still narrow distance that lay between Melusine and himself, and discovered her hand there, a very small dagger within it.
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