Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. Michelle looked at Lucy's feet, still in the ugly brown loafers she had worn since last year. A town called Foster. ‘It is that he needed me for his lie, no?’ Melusine said, striving to control the quiver in her voice.
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