Melusine tilted her head to catch sight of her neck, and froze, staring at the image. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. Are these folks your current foster parents?” “Yes. ” “There’s quite enough still,” said Ann Veronica, smiling, “that one doesn’t understand. I met you here as Lady Ferringhall. ’ ‘How can you say so?’ protested Melusine. Another picture slid across her vision.
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