” He commanded. Rage flooded her at his intent, but she controlled it. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. "I'll not believe it. ‘First I must see Jacques, and—’ ‘No need for that,’ intervened Roding, grasping her arm and trying to drag her to the door. Better get a dress. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre.
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