’ Shock ripped through Charvill’s chest. CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom. He was indeed still in the throes of his bewilderment. He did not like it. But Melusine’s own words had thrown an idea into her head.
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