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“An Oracle you are! Sebastian never told me he’d made one!” Rhea screamed a scream that was part horror and part laughter. You need not tell me, but a lawyer is different. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. Who could guarantee a safer existence outside Florence? That Sebastian seemed to have a weird immunity to the Pestilence was a trait that went unquestioned, unanswered.
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