“Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. “You did your best to kill me,” he said. But his life, ruled by chance and the fight to survive had appealed strongly to Melusine’s rebellious spirit. The thought had not even occurred to him. ‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. .
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