She stood in the prow of the boat, breathing deeply, summoning her strength for the magical act she was about to perform; for a moment she wondered if she still had the strength for it. Morris turned away from the window. As far as she wasconcerned, the immense Gothic structure that loomed over the entire Hradcany belonged whereeverything Gothic belonged—in a romance novel, preferably featuring sexy vampires. The tip of it was covered in blood.
The brides were two sisters from Nancy in France. Friedrich swallowed heavily, and kept reading. Morris wasn't sure—he'd find out soon enough, ofcourse, once they were alone—but he thought he was probably in for a little lecture on the subject offalse modesty. Not my fault the rest of 'em are a bunch of hicks.
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