“I understand you’re grieving. Quite deeply, I’m sure. But do not come here and tell me that the loss of a ship-beast and a woman who never told you a true thing in your whole time with her is the same as watching the door close on the only life you had ever wanted, the life you had molded yourself for until it was the only shape you fit.” She stood abruptly and Mother Lucia leaned back, even though the idea that Terret would lay a hand on her was inconceivable. The woman radiated rage. No—righteous fury. Just like a saint. This could be a scene in a hagiography—Mother Lucia saw it in her
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