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The grey fairy shimmered, a double image of the pale fae with silvery grey hair and the glamour he wore over it. He glanced at the building, at the way the sun seemed to shine through it.
“That’s it,” he said. “You don’t really want to try doing this on your own, do you?” he asked, passing a hand over her belly.
The baby felt wrong inside her, like cold ice rather than warm life. These intermediaries should know what to do. They had better.
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