Its walled heaved with black mildew and sea-salt. Montressor’s guests were. Annabel entered. A boy no older than she, Gianfrancesco’s cousin, whispered what he would like to do to her when she stole into the hallways near the women’s chambers to fix herself. ‘But lay him down. Under her feet lay intricate mosaics, and each warm hall was festooned in tapestries. This is the first act. ‘I take it that you like this great-niece of mine?’ ‘One cannot help but do so.
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