’ ‘But what age are you? Do you not require an heir?’ Melusine asked, her tone shocked. “Yes,” she answered, looking away. I'm going through his pockets. “I suppose my levity is incorrigible. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. Her wings were oddly weak, but for all that she could fly.
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