It was the beginning of June. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. “No. Next moment, he had Melusine by the arm. ’ ‘I do not lie to you now,’ she said, near frantic at the thought of losing him. ‘Melusine. You are different, Lucia, undamaged even after what you have been through, still pure of heart. But she did not believe he would do that. —BRENDON. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself.
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