’ ‘And you believe her?’ asked Lucilla, raising her brows. They bickered frequently now as Gianfrancesco protested the prices of things like funeral candles and poultices to comfort the dying. And then all her restlessness was turned to joy. Next instant he had her immobilised, her hands behind her back, her chest crushed to his, the white veil slipping once again. She was the High Priestess.
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