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... ence, then, is not an act, but a habit."
***
She came back the next evening.
The window slid open without a sound, and Lyra dropped into my chamber like she’d done it a hundred times before. Maybe in her head, she had.
"Master." Down on one knee again, head bowed, hands clasped. Same position as yesterday. But everything else about her had changed. Her shoulders were straighter. Her voice carried a new edge. She practically vibrated with the need to tell me someth ...
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