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“Some things,” June said when Mara told her, “need to be someone’s secret to do their work.” Instead she tapped

Then the longship, a dark tooth of wood, sliced the screen. Men and women with braided hair and tattoos like road maps raised shields and laughed. But their laughter was threaded with impatience, the precise impatience of people who had been promised a story and found instead that the story was still forming.

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