” “Perhaps,” she said, “I am superstitious. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. ’ Kimble frowned direfully, staring at the weapon with its gold hilt and decorative pattern down the blade. I’m not sure if Janine cared. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago.
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