Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. But one of these days everything will click back into place. ’ There was no denial in Martha’s face, though Melusine longed to hear her words contradicted. For the first time a definite doubt possessed him. Listen to me, Winifred.
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