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Chapter 9 Florentine sat in the family sitting room, diligently copying her mother’s old journal to a new book. Her mother’s handwriting across the page was like a spider’s crawl after it first waded in ink. She copied what she could in neat cursive and wished she had at least some of the drawing talent as the rest of her family. The sketches would have to remain uncopied for now and given to Anastasia’s care. She hunched low over the book of faded pages, a nagging ache above her eyes indicating that perhaps it was time to shift her attention elsewhere for a while. One line illegible. ‘Perhaps more light?’ Florentine took the book to the window and held it up to the sunlight. As she did, she noticed something about the accompanying sketch that hadn’t been apparent earlier. The figure he