“You might not like me, Seraphina, but you would do well to listen.” Sera did not move. “We are not that different, you and I,” the older woman said. “We both made a mistake trapping a man in marriage. The difference is that my child survived.” She paused, and Sera willed her to leave the room, suddenly exhausted by the dowager’s very presence. “If he hadn’t, I would have run.” Running was a glorious thought. Could she outrun it? The sorrow? The pain? Could she outrun him? “There was no love lost in our marriage. Just as there is none lost in yours.” She was wrong, of course. Sera’s marriage
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