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... ots, and Mister Fog arguing with a peacock.
"I have diplomatic immunity, you flamboyant feathered rat!" he shouted from the window.
Lilith rolled out of her bed and unsheathed a dagger before realizing she wasn’t under attack. "If that bird honks at me one more time, I’m turning it into a belt."
Meanwhile, I was still in bed, pretending to be asleep, mouth half-open, body limp like a dead raccoon at a noble’s funeral. "Maybe if I don’t move," I whispered, "they’ll forget ...
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