There was no answer, just grunting, so she repeated the question in Latin, then in Greek, to which Rhea responded. ” She said. ‘Merci, Joan,’ cried Melusine, moving to her and seizing her hand which she clasped between both her own for a moment, as she turned to the others. In the present case it did not matter, as there was no one else within earshot. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved.
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