![]() Which was an easy mistake to make, considering the fact that Mr. Not Magnate Leto’s office at Foxfire, like she’d been expecting. Sophie opened her mouth to argue-then realized what he meant. “I thought you were taking me to your office,” she told him, shifting her gaze toward the windblown meadow and searching the swaying wildflowers for clues as to where they were. Tolkien there and provided him with the inspiration. ![]() Or perhaps some impossible-to-believe story about how Mr. But Sophie had been living in the Lost Cities long enough to know better than to voice that observation. FORKLE said, and the lilt of his tone made Sophie wonder if his lips were twitching with a smile-but she couldn’t pull her eyes away from the round, gilded door he’d brought her to, tucked into the side of a rolling, grassy hill. ![]()
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