You Asked Me Who I Belong To.

All The Stories Are True

When I Am In The Darkness, I Want To Think Of It In The Light, With You," He Said, And Straightened, And Turned To Walk Toward The Door. The Parchment Robes Of The Silent Brothers Moved Around Him As He Moved, And Tessa Watched Him, Paralyzed, Every Pulse Of Her Heart Beating Out The Words She Could Not Say: Good-bye. Good-bye. Good-bye.

And Jessamine-jessamine Was Gazing At Her In Abject Horror, Like Someone Who Has Seen A Vision Of Their Own Ghost. For A Moment Tessa Felt A Stab Of Guilt. It Lasted Only A Moment, Though. Slowly Jessamine Lowered Her Hand From Her Mouth, Her Face Still Very Pale. "goodness, My Nose Is Enormous," She Exclaimed. "why Didn't Anyone Tell Me?

I Have Mastered Many Things In My Life. Navigating The Streets Of London, Speaking French Without An Accent, Dancing The Quadrille, The Japanese Art Of Flower Arranging, Lying At Charades, Concealing A Highly Intoxicated State, Delighting Young Women With My Charms..." Tessa Stared. "alas," He Went On, "no One Has Ever Actually Referred To Me As 'the Master,' Or 'the Magister,' Either. More's The Pity.

[...] He Tasted Like Snowflakes And Wine, Like Winter And Will And London.