Then again, in so many ways, walking into that dining room was belly-of-the-beast time. His brandy-new Ed Hardy kicks middle-fingered that suggestion. Qhuinn closed his eyes and tried to convince his body to step forward. “Ah, yes, thank you, Lilith,” his father said evenly. She’s getting heavy.”Īh, yes, his mother’s perma-diet inflicted on the next generation: Glymera females were supposed to disappear from sight when they turned sideways, each jutting collarbone, sunken cheek, and bony upper arm some kind of fucked-up badge of honor.Īs if resembling like a fire poker would make you a better person.Īnd Scribe Virgin forefend if your daughter looked like she was healthy. “Oh, Lillie, this is lovely, thank you,” his mother said to the server. Or maybe the ever-popular We’re Just Better Than Everyone Else.ĭistant voices drifted over from the dining room, the vowels round as brilliant-cut diamonds, the consonants drawled out smooth and long as satin ribbons. If the Glade company ever did an air freshener like this, it would be called something like Meadow of Old Money. Fresh flowers from the garden that the doggen brought in daily. The instant he stepped over the threshold, the smell of the place curled up into his nose. Qhuinn, son of Lohstrong, entered his family’s home through its grand front door.
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