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Proserpina

They watch the girls sneak back in pairs, waiting until last to leave themselves. Radiane rests her head on Proserpina’s shoulder.

“I was happy, you know,” she says suddenly. “Eating with Georgette, playing field hockey, hoping Father would buy me a horse. I was.”

Proserpina is silent.

“What happens to all that now?”

“It’s still there.”

“No.” Radiane cracks her neck: an awful habit they’ve all picked up. “You took it away.”

“I haven’t taken anything,” says Proserpina, a little coolly.

“That’s true,” says Radiane. “All you do is give. But your gifts are the kind with hooks in the ribbons.”

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