They had got all this down already—they heard the substance of it now for the fourteenth time. ‘That’s wicked, that is. 32 The curtains and tapestries had appeared over the windows before Marina had died, growing moldy from the dampness and the oils of lavender, clove, and clary sage soaking them. “I feared we might have a fog. " The prison bars of circumstance, they no longer encompassed her.
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