Her head ached with a hollow pain. Melusine’s heart ached for him, but she had to force him on. "What are you waiting for?" asked Jack, impatiently. Vorsack. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. "Well," growled Blueskin, "you've had my offer.
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