Had he come to see her to find if she needed something? No. Detention was merry for the other detainees. Teacher. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. Under her feet lay intricate mosaics, and each warm hall was festooned in tapestries. The light disappeared.
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