She had never seen so much food in her life as she saw at her own wedding feast. At the end of two long lines of foot-guards stood the cart with a powerful black horse harnessed to it. Scissors with which to cut her hair, just in case. ‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart. ‘Do not mix yourself in mine, and perhaps you will not die. ’ Melusine hesitated.
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