Yon must be mine to-night. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. Oh God! my limbs fail me. She is chosen to learn magic. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. There was a couple who disappeared. —Providence, I mean—HAS arranged it so that men will keep you, more or less.
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