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“You’d best prepare yourself, princeling. I’ve no intention of letting you kiss me.” “Letting me?” Fate’s laugh was far too genuine. “You’re not to my taste, love.” “So it seems there is a God.” Blythe clapped her hands together and looked to the sky as if praying. “It only took looking at your art for me to understand how terrible your taste is.”
Foxglove (Belladonna, #2)
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