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Chapter Seventeen

XVII – Promises, promises

. . .

“What glitters may not be gold; and even wolves may smile; and fools will be led by promises to their deaths.”

–Lauren Oliver

. . .

PROSERPINA:

As romantic as this was, dancing under the moonlight in the place where they first met, Proserpina could not hear the blasted song Alastor was speaking of and was too annoyed for being spun around in the air like a ragdoll.

 He was just carrying her an

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