Mother? Suzanne Valade, her mother? With deliberation, he spoke. “Yes. He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off. ” Marina would drawl, Lucy invoking her mother’s face as the image of the beautiful but cruel princess Anoush. Taking hold of the hilt of his own foil, he drew it forth.
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