Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. She had always had a wonderful ear for phrasing, even back in the days of the viol. Sebastian had fetched tallow, which she angrily ordered him not to use, as she suspected its origin was not animal but human. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. She had to do her thinking at home—under inspection. That is why I am here.
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