The wine was sweetened with cinnamon and cloves and rare edible flowers, which her father had instructed her not to drink excessively of. “Well, well, Martin. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. "You are my prisoner. But the twins were so fucked over at that point they were zombies. “Such was Anoush’s beauty that with one glimpse Farhat decided that he would spend his life building a castle to match her loveliness.
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