“We stand on the threshold of the twentieth century, and people are turning down jobs because they’re afraid of a … a…” “Hag that sits on your chest and steals your breath,” said Angus helpfully. “And maybe the rest of the world is on the threshold of the twentieth century, but we’re in Gallacia, if you hadn’t noticed.” He frowned at me. “And you of all people should know that we don’t always know what we should be afraid of.” “Yes, but…” I trailed off. He was right. At the Usher house, I’d seen things and hadn’t had the wit to fear them until much too late. But still, a fairy-tale woman that
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