Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog. ‘Pig, miss?’ ‘The one who calls himself Valade, idiot,’ snapped Melusine impatiently. Perhaps I'd better open it now.
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