Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow. Even the light was different in Athens, soft and golden, sweet as the morning dew blessed by Athena herself. When the prisoner was brought into this room, he was again questioned; but, continuing contumacious, preparations were made for inflicting the torture. ‘Wait for me. Melusine did not pause, but reached down to grasp the hilt of his sword and lift it.
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