Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. Sated, he rolled off her body and retired to his quarters. He breathed heavily, as though he had been running. ’ ‘In a way she had been,’ said Prudence. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. Lucy's grin faded.
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